


The Knights of Eigengrau

by Davechicken, Shadow_Side



Series: Intrinsic Grey [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Consensual BDSM, D/s, DarkPilot, Explicit Sexual Content, Extended Universe Canon, Graphic Depictions of Sith, Greyside Morality, M/M, Post TFA, interrogation kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 18:59:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 40
Words: 234,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6820258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Side/pseuds/Shadow_Side
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the First Order routed and their once-Supreme Leader dead, it seems the Resistance finally has a moment to breathe. Poe Dameron and Kylo Organa-Solo, together with Rey and Finn, begin to set up their new combined Sith-Jedi Order: The Knights of Eigengrau. But there are fresh stormclouds brewing on the horizon, as the new Master of the Knights of Ren allies with the new leader of the First Order, in search of an ancient secret with the power to change the face of the galaxy - and the Force - forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Resonance

**Author's Note:**

> Readers, one and all... WE ARE BACK!!
> 
> We return to you with the first chapter of our promised sequel. Believe us when we tell you that we've got some HUGE pieces of plot to bring you here in Part Two, and we can't wait to get to them!
> 
> For the time being, we'll be maintaining our previous twice-weekly update schedule, posting new chapters every Wednesday and Saturday. So join us again in three days' time, when we will be returning you to a familiar and much-missed place... but, for now, we start here: with something completely different... ;-)
> 
> The story-art for this one is from the amazing commission drawn for us by [@lupotterdraws](http://lupotterdraws.tumblr.com/) \- you can see the full version, without text, at the end of [Chapter 36](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5698945/chapters/14057494/) of _The Fallacy of the False Choice_.
> 
> And now, without further ado, we return you at last to a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...

  
  


***

General Hux is having an extraordinarily bad day.

In every sense of the word. Even by the standards of the bad days he's been having of late, _this_ is **extraordinary**.

Word came in, less than an hour ago, that the _Decimator_ – the First Order's flagship, and the base of operations belonging to Supreme Leader Snoke himself – has been destroyed, in the Virios system, by the hated Resistance. Worse, the ship burned up in the atmosphere of the gas giant Zekkan, lost with all hands.

All hands. All. Supreme Leader Snoke is dead.

For the first half-hour, Hux can't even speak; so utterly overwhelmed by the raging hatred within his mind that to form words would be next to impossible. How can this have happened? Mere weeks ago, everything was going perfectly. The Resistance was routed, Kylo Ren was back at the Supreme Leader's side, and now…

_Kylo Ren_. Even thinking about him makes the anger rise still higher in Hux's chest. Kylo Ren is a traitor of the highest order, and Hux _knows_ the man is responsible for what happened to the _Decimator_. Kylo Ren, and his equally-traitorous parents, and his devious little wretch of a _boyfriend_ , and…

Deep breaths. Very deep breaths. All this rage isn't out of place, but it can be put to better use. Hux knows it. It's why he's now standing outside the holo-chamber, waiting for someone.

Someone he needs. Someone who needs him in return. And when it comes to a heat-of-the-moment alliance, there is little stronger motivation.

Hux waits. And he waits. He still holds himself like he's standing on the bridge, a point of perfect stillness save for the rise and fall of his breath. Control. He has to keep control. Of himself, of the First Order, of… everything.

He has to. And he _will_.

Danika, Lady Knight of Ren, storms out of the conference chamber. The Knights all felt the Leader's death, and as de facto Master in all but name, she called them together from their disparate postings to discuss what _next_. What came next turned out to be a bitch-fight of the highest order, and she's not impressed by their dissention or petty-mindedness.

So when she walks out of the room and almost into the officer (who she'd barely registered as important with her senses) she glares up at the tall man through her mask. He can't see the glare, but he can read her body language.

"Why are you here, General?" she asks, her tone clipped and brusque. 

"Because I need to speak to you, Lady Ren," he answers, just as clipped, if a little less brusque. He, after all, has had time to get his emotions under control. She, clearly, has not.

"We are in the midst of quite a disaster – disconcertingly similar to the one that heralded the end of the Galactic Empire – and I believe I may have a solution."

It is not a solution he likes. The one saving grace of Kylo Ren's betrayal was no longer having to put up with the man every accursed day. Swapping him out for a shorter, higher-pitched version hardly seems welcome, but at least _this_ one still appears loyal.

Though that doesn't mean he won't be keeping an eye on her. Both eyes. As often as he can stand it.

"Are you planning on telling me your solution, or were you just going to gloat about it?" she asks, clearly not liking the edging around the subject. "Time is of the essence, right now. With the Leader gone… we need to make a decisive show of strength to rally the Order."

She knows that. She does. But she can barely get those squabbling children to accept her, yet. And those Knights are worth more than all of the troopers put together. You can always train more soldiers, but a Force-sensitive is harder to find. 

Hux seethes, quietly. There's a flash of it in his eyes, but the rest remains hidden. Though… he knows _she_ will be able to feel it through the Force, and…

Not now. Later.

"I can do both," he says, levelly, though with a deliberate pause afterwards. Just because he _can_. "I propose an alliance, between the two of us. You and your Knights are powerful in the Dark Side, but you lack resources and manpower. I have the full might of the First Order at my disposal, but I lack access to Force-users of my own, who will be essential if we are to take down your former master. The wise move, it seems, would be to unite against our common enemy."

"And I suspect this is when you tell me that the Order won't follow me without you?" she surmises, knowing full well where he's coming from. Of course he has more military, operational knowledge. That only makes sense, because a Knight of Ren doesn't need that. But she would also still like him to say so.

"Yes," is his answer, simple and matter-of-fact. "They will not. But without you, and the other Knights, even an army of Stormtroopers and fleets of TIE-Fighters will not be enough. Hence… our impasse."

"What form would this alliance of yours take, General?" 

"We would operate as equals," Hux says. "I would retain operational control of the First Order fleets. You would lead and direct the other Knights. And I will put the resources of the First Order at your disposal – within reason, of course – if it serves our ultimate goal: the destruction of the Resistance, and of the hated Republic."

"And what is the end goal to this alliance?" she pushes. "When we destroy the Republic. There has only ever been one Emperor, and his Enforcer. And – as you well know – the Emperor has always been Force-sensitive." 

It's not that she's claiming the throne for herself before they've even agreed to this, but she does feel she needs to know what Hux's final motivation is. She knows her own, after all. "What would you have rule the galaxy instead?" 

Deep breaths. Deep breaths that don't look like deep breaths. "The Emperor has always been Force-sensitive, yes," he concedes, as carefully as he dares. "But, whether Emperor or Supreme Leader… it has not ended well. I would see the First Order led not by a distant figure but by someone who has been at the forefront of operations since the beginning. A military figure, to lead a military organisation."

A beat. Might as well say it. "I am General of the First Order. I am already its leader. I would ascend to that position on a permanent basis when we are victorious, and you – as Master of the Knights of Ren – would be leader of our Force-using allies. We would remain equals."

If there was any other way, he'd take it in a heartbeat. In less than a heartbeat. But Hux cannot win this without the Knights, and his only option is to accept that fact right now, at the start.

To get what he wants, this is what he has to do.

"Mutually assured success… or destruction," she muses. It could work. After all, the previous inhabitants of the top had always had an inferior who was pretty much conditioned into rising up to strike them down. It had always seemed a ridiculous proposal to her.

Plus, Danika doesn't really care much about the military aspect of the organisation. They're cannon-fodder, little more. Cannon-fodder, and cannon-gunners. Necessary, but not important in and of themselves. 

"Very well. As you are no doubt aware, following the betrayal of the Leader's main student, I have been acting as the Master of the Knights. I will take this proposal to them, and ensure their loyalty to me – and to our cause." 

Hux nods. "Their loyalty will be essential. We must ensure all of our focus remains in one direction, fixed upon our goal. If they will not join us, they must not be allowed to stand in our way."

He keeps the impetus here on Danika assuming control, and not on the possibility that one of the others might garner more support of their own. It's possible, yes, and if it happened then it would be they – and not she – whom he would seek to ally with. But he doubts it will come to that. Danika Ren has been the de-facto Master of the Knights since Kylo Ren's final defection. All that is needed now is for her to have it made official.

And then the real work can begin.

"Leave it with me. They need to stew in their juices for an hour, and then I'll reconvene them. I'll present them with an actual plan, and they'll fall into line. Or be _broken_ into it." She isn't going to take no for an answer, after all. 

Danika has had quite enough of disloyal, unworthy Knights. Quite enough. 

"Very well," Hux says. "I await your final decision."

And, giving her a nod, he turns and heads off, stalking down the corridors of his ship. This is a dark day for the First Order. A dark day indeed. But… with the right leadership, the right focus, it can be turned into something else.

The beginning. The beginning of the Republic's end.

***

There is one more person to whom Hux needs to speak, to ensure this plan can work satisfactorily. Mercifully, said discussion will be much less stressful than the first one. For so very many reasons.

It still needs to happen in private, given that the proposed alliance is not yet a certainty. With this in mind, Hux returns to his own office, just off the bridge of the _Finalizer_ , and summons Captain Phasma.

_She_ will understand.

"Sir," the Captain says, standing neatly to attention as soon as she arrives. Her metallic uniform glints sharply in the false sunlight of the _Finalizer's_ overhead strips. "You asked for me." 

"Yes, Captain," he replies. "What I am about to tell you is not yet official, though I believe it will be before the day is out." He doesn't need to add a directive not to tell anyone yet. Phasma is far too professional to make such a mistake. "With the _Decimator_ destroyed, and the Supreme Leader murdered, I am taking steps to secure the First Order's future. We will not fall as the Empire did, Captain. I will make sure of it."

He pauses. He wants to pace, but it's an instinct he's long learned to fight, so he stays stock-still as he speaks. "To that end, I have approached Danika Ren, and asked her – and the remaining Knights – to ally with us against the Republic. I await their final decision, but I expect it to be positive. We must prepare to take action. We must prepare to strike back against the Republic, against the _Resistance_ , and we must ensure that this time we do not fail."

Phasma nods, her masked face showing no outward expression, but her tone is clearly one of quiet, reserved relief. "I have every confidence in your vision for the Order, General." 

"For which I am grateful, Captain." He wouldn't say this to anyone else, of course, but he and Phasma have always been… cut from similar cloth. "For now, I want you to step up training operations with all of your squads. When the time comes to act – and it _will_ come, and soon – it is vital every last one of them is ready."

"Furthermore," he goes on, "I will have word sent out to the rest of the fleet. The _Finalizer_ is to become our new flagship, in the _Decimator's_ stead, and I am assuming full operational control of the entire First Order."

"I will make the necessary arrangements for that, without revealing the reasons behind, if you would like me to?" She excels mostly with troop-based activities, but she isn't an idiot. She has plenty of experience with the more bureaucratic elements of command, too. 

Hux nods. "Yes. Do it at once. I want there to be not a shred of doubt as to how we will be moving forward."

Or _that_ we are. Such defeatist thoughts must not be allowed to flare up. _Anywhere_.

"Is there anything else I can do to assist?" she asks, helmet tilted slightly to one side. "I am yours to command, General." 

"I know that, Captain," Hux answers. There's no emotion in his voice, no sentimentality, though he does mean what he's saying. "And, believe me, it is a relief to have someone competent at my side. Someone who shares my vision for the Order." A beat. "Someone I can _trust_. As for your assistance… I need to know the _second_ you become aware of the slightest signs of sedition within the ranks. I know you would always be on the lookout for it, but given what has happened we must step up our efforts. We suffered two serious betrayals – Kylo Ren, and FN-2187 – and I will not permit there to be a third."

"I will see to it that the slightest hint of non-conformity is eradicated, and the results of dissention made public, to keep the remaining troops in line." A little self-recrimination sneaks in, then. Clearly the earliest desertion still weighs heavily on her mind. 

He nods. "I know I can count on you." And he does. They both made mistakes when it came to the loyalty of those around them – she with the trooper, he with the knight – and whilst they should not forget this, they also must not dwell on it.

Forward-looking. They must always be forward-looking.

"Go and have news of the _Finalizer's_ new status communicated to the rest of the fleet," he instructs. "Then begin work with your squads. I will keep you informed as to Lady Ren's ultimate decision."

"At once," she replies, heels snapping together. She knows a dismissal when she hears one, and she doesn't hesitate to go follow his commands. 

Hux watches Phasma leave, waiting until the door has thunked shut behind her before he turns to the window and exhales. Now comes the part he hates the most.

The _waiting_.

***

Danika summons the Knights of Ren once more. She's given them time to dwell on their last 'discussion', and she knows they'll be even more agitated now. Which works to her best advantage, of course. Darksiders live for emotive events, and this is perhaps the most emotive of all.

She waits until the last person joins the call – Tovim – and then waits a moment longer.

"What do you want now, Danika?" asks Fayed.

"I have sealed an alliance with General Hux. He has assumed control of the military arm of the First Order, and made the _Finalizer_ \--" the ship she is still on, "--the new flagship. He and I will jointly lead the Order." 

She says this as matter-of-fact. It is better to present your strength, to show them the light, so they fall into line.

"He has no opposition?" Jolek asks.

"None." 

"Danika… is this wise?" Daria – her twin – asks, always the most cautious. "General Hux is hardly favourable towards us. Surely he will stab us in the back the first chance he sees?"

"He needs us. We need him." It's simple, of course. "He cannot win against the Resistance and their Jedi scum without us. And we will benefit from his ships and ground troops. He was loyal to the Leader, he will be loyal to me." 

Even behind her mask, it's obvious Daria is intensely conflicted. "He was loyal to the Leader because the Leader commanded absolute power. He… will not see you the same way."

"He will learn to see me that way." Danika's voice is hard, and unbending. "And he will have no power to resist the six of us."

"Assuming we agree," Meryth drolls.

"You will agree, because this is what we have all worked for," Danika says, running right over her objection. "This is what we all want, and this is our chance. We have no disloyal Master, we have no old and fading teacher. We are young, and strong. We will wipe the Light from this galaxy, and we will sit in our rightful place."

"At the top?" Tovim asks.

"At the top," she agrees. "So who is with me?" 

There is a moment of impasse, a silent pause. Perhaps the others are waiting to see what Daria will say to her own sister, what her choice will be. But, in the end, it is not the twin who speaks first.

"I'm with you." Jolek is normally the reserved one, the one who thinks first, speaks second. If he's made up his mind, he's made up his mind.

Which means the more hot-headed Fayed and Meryth voice their agreement, too.

"Sure," Tovim says, his tone light. "In for a credit, in for the whole damn bank account…"

Danika still stares at Daria, waiting for her sister, feeling her indecision through their Bond and pushing at her, invisibly. 

"…I'm with you," Daria answers, though the pause weighs heavy, and her voice is hardly that of a True Believer. But she does say it.

"Then, my Knights, I'll summon you once I have your orders. But for now, I want you to make your presence known. I want us to be visible, and remind the lesser beings of our power and position. Is that understood?" 

It feels good to say that. Her Knights. Her Order. She doesn't care too much for the ins and outs of the rest of this arrangement, but she _does_ want to remain on top. Hux might think he's an equal partner, but she knows the truth of the matter.

"Whatever you say, boss," Tovim replies, and lightly bows. 

"Go," she adds. And, using the visible connection to manipulate their Bond, she adds in unspoken words to her sister: _But not you_.

The other Knights flicker out of the call, leaving only the twins. 

"This is a mistake," Daria says, bluntly, when no one else can hear.

"It isn't. It's the safest thing for us all," Danika replies. "Without the Leader, the Order needs a strong hand at the helm. We have no control over the troopers, and we need a military presence." 

Daria folds her arms, though it's a defensive gesture, rather than an aggressive one. "I realise that. But I don't trust Hux, and I don't think it wise to throw our lot in with him. Nor is it wise to rush to act against the Resistance – against _Kylo_ – before we're ready."

"If we don't act now, the Resistance will destroy us." Danika doesn't respond with aggressive posturing, not around her sister. Daria needs a more delicate touch, and she knows it's not a weakness to speak her language in private. "We don't necessarily make our stand, now. But we do regroup, before we bleed ships and staff. We need to rally and lift the Leader as a martyr, and show ourselves to be his successors."

Her voice softens, just a little. "We need this. He isn't the most trustworthy, but he's the most bloodthirsty. As long as having us around furthers the Order, he will keep in line. And unless we manage to wipe out all of the Jedi, or other Force-sensitives, he will always need us. And if we _do_ succeed in that, then we strike against him." 

This makes Daria drop her arms, bowing her head a little. "You're right. I know you're right. But something still feels… so, so wrong about all this. And… I am afraid." This is not something she could admit in front of the others, but she can admit it to her sister. "We lost the Leader, and we lost Kylo. I don't want to lose you too, Danika. I can't."

"You won't lose me. We're stronger together, remember? Nothing can stop us. We'll get through this, like we always do." Her voice is kind, now. She knows she'd never have got this far without her twin, knows they keep one another strong, keep one another fighting. Daria's protection has always been there, up with the desire for power. It's hard to tell if one is stronger than the other, but power has made Daria safe, so Danika has never needed to know.

"We'll get through this. I need you by my side, Dar. I know it's a lot at once, but Kylo… he needs to pay for what he did." 

"I know," Daria answers. "And if anyone can do this, it's you. It's _us_. And… you know I'm with you. I'll always be with you."

Danika lifts her hand in a distant not-touch. Under their masks, their faces are hidden, but she knows her sibling will feel her reassurance all the same. "I'll always look out for you. I promise." 

"I know you will. I'll see you soon."

And, with a nod, Daria's hologram fades out.

Danika waits for a moment after Daria leaves. The podiums are all dark, and she's alone. The Bond to her sister is still there, but harder to use. Close proximity or a visual cue always tightens the focus, but it never really fades completely.

When Kylo left, she'd moved easily into his (much bigger, but stupid) shoes. She'd filled the power vacuum, but she'd never expected to jump so high, so fast.

Master of the Knights. That's her title, on flimsi. But really… she knows better.

She smiles, and leaves the conference hall. Time to seal the deal. 

***

Hux stands on a secluded observation deck, staring out at the dark tapestry of space. He's been on the bridge for some time, but he knows it can't be much longer before Danika returns with her answer, and he wants to be alone when that moment comes.

So instead, he's here, watching the stars, left with his thoughts. Slowly formulating the plan of action that has been building in his mind since he learned of the Leader's death. It will not be easy, but that is good. Easy teaches you nothing. _Hard_ is how you know what you're really capable of.

And General Hux knows. And the rage still burning in him is controlled, now. It has _purpose_.

Danika approaches with sure, steady strides. She feels… good. Yes. Good. This is going to work. "General Hux," she says, greeting him levelly. She can feel the surface emotion, without probing obviously. The man shields remarkably well for a non-sensitive, but she can still tell some of how he's reacting, if not what he's thinking.

Hux looks sideways at her, but doesn't turn fully. "Lady Ren," he says, his own tone just as level. "Have you come to a decision?"

He suspects she and the others have, and that it is the one he is hoping for. These Darksiders are too readable when they're upset. Though he would never be so foolish as to assume anything outright.

"The Knights have agreed," she replies, no need to drag this conversation out any longer than it has to be. "They will follow me, and I will work alongside you. Will you retain your current rank?"

After all, although Knights of Ren and their leaders have some semblance of rank-structure, it's always been something of a specialty for those in matching uniforms. She understands it gives them a semblance of progression, a sense of pride and power. It's just words and clothes, though. Not like real power. 

Hux nods. "I will. For now." He suspects this is the sensible move. Declaring himself something _else_ right after the Supreme Leader's death would look like a man making a mad grab for power. Not a natural and appropriate act of progression. Of _succession_. But he can be patient.

Danika considers that sensible. They don't want to change too many things at once, especially as some could accuse him of pushing the Leader out, of engineering Kylo's betrayal. No, this way is better.

"And you?" Hux adds. "Are we to consider you the new Master of the Knights of Ren?"

"That was the agreement. I have the support of all five. I will want to increase our ranks. With that in mind, there's somewhere I need you to take me." 

Of course there is. But at least, if she tells him, Hux will begin to form some idea as to what Danika intends to do. What she is planning.

Information is power, after all. And he wants both.

"Oh?" he replies, levelly. An admission of intrigue, but not as though he's hanging on her every word. "Where?"

"I want to go to the Sith homeworld. I want to go to Korriban." She doesn't flicker when she says this, and expects he will agree. After all, it serves both their interests. 

"Indeed?" Hux says. "To what end?"

"There may be lore there that will help me. I have advanced sufficiently in my studies, but I would appreciate the chance to take every last drop of information there is to help us win this war." She isn't sure what she'll find, but she's not about to sit idly by when there's now two Jedi. They've doubled their numbers in a short space of time, and Danika doesn't want to know how quickly they can treble, or more. 

"Very well," Hux agrees, with a nod. It sounds like a promising course of action. Precisely where it will lead, he doesn't know, but it is a clear start. "I will have the bridge crew take us there at once. You believe something in the ruins will further our cause?"

"I do. If there is anything remaining of the Sith way of life, it will be preserved there. I don't intend to bring back their order, but they did understand the Dark Side in ways perhaps even the Leader didn't know." Far be it for her to speak too ill of the dead, but they are dead. And she is not. And that means something.

"Then we will go, and find everything we can," Hux says. And… despite it all, he smiles. "And then we will destroy the Republic, and their precious Resistance. _All of them_."

"And from their ashes, we build the future," she agrees. There's something in the man's eyes that is almost too-fanatical, and she can't help but wonder… "Let me know when we arrive. I will be in my chambers." 

"Very well, Lady Ren," Hux agrees, and waits until the Darksider has gone, leaving him alone once more.

Alone, with his thoughts, with his plan, with his focus. With his _purpose_.

General Hux smiles again, and then goes to set a course for Korriban.


	2. Welcome To Eigengrau

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salutations, readers! We return with Chapter Two of Part Two, in which we finally catch up with our heroes, reminisce about days past, and then get down to what we're all here for: smut! Also character development. Also that.
> 
> And thus, without further ado, allow us to welcome you back... to Eigengrau!

On the planet Eigengrau, deep within a crumbling temple once long-forgotten by time and memory, Poe Dameron stands and watches the sun set.

This is something of a relief. This part of the planet – indeed, most parts of the planet – is very hot during the day. Night comes as a mercy, an oasis of cool amidst the heat. And, even having had time to re-acclimatise, Poe still can't say he loves it.

Other things about this place, however? That's a different story. Even the weather and the memories of constantly fearing for his life couldn't ever put Poe Dameron off _Eigengrau_.

Right now, he's standing in the centre of that vast, ancient amphitheatre. Behind him, two small shuttlecraft sit on the short grass, both pleasingly intact and not even remotely on fire. Turns out, 'Master of the Knights of Eigengrau' isn't just a title for Kylo Organa-Solo. It's also a rather literal key to the front door, as it were. And after making an oh-so-cautious pass at the planet and _not_ getting blasted out of the sky, they've quickly surmised that, having passed all the tests here, Kylo can now come and go as he pleases.

Which has made things much easier. It's the end of their fourth day on the planet, and right now – as Poe watches the sun set – he wonders how much longer Rey and Finn are going to be.

They're in the fourth test: the penultimate, and also the most intensely physical. Poe should know. He'll _never_ forget the room with the blades. Or the chasm. Or… the Force-lightning…

BB-8 whirls up to his side, bleeping softly.

"Yeah, buddy, I know," he says, in reply. "I hope they're back soon, too."

"I think they're almost done," Kylo says, walking over from the shuttles. He's set the evening meal cooking slowly over the portable stove. Rey and Finn have more than just company and foreknowledge, for their run through. Kylo hasn't brought too many creature comforts, but he's brought enough that it makes the off-test time tolerably like just pleasure camping.

"It's not so much hearing screaming as annoyance. Rey is far more patient than I was." 

It isn't often that Poe genuinely wishes for Force-powers of his own – he's long since gotten used to living around people with them without desperately wishing to join in – but he does right now. Though not for any reason other than being able to sense some idea of how the other two are doing.

To know that they're all right. Which is not because he doesn't trust Rey's abilities, or Finn's strengths, but simply because he knows how difficult these tests are. And the _fourth_ … well, of all of them, it was that one that nearly got him and Kylo killed.

The most. Nearly got them killed the most.

"Any kind of patience in that room full of whirling blades would be quite an achievement," Poe points out, dryly, moving over to Kylo and slipping an arm around his waist. If nothing else, being here has been an excellent opportunity for some… reminiscing.

"It was quite something watching you do that room," Kylo says, with a distant smile. "Although the fear of losing you, and the concentration needed to keep you going… those kind of distracted me from admiring you with my full attention span."

"It was slightly terrifying," Poe says, which is an understatement. "Although… it did lead to one of _the_ best nights of my life, so…"

He curls in a little closer, running his free hand over Kylo's chest. He is not – actually – trying to initiate anything right now, though this is only because Rey and Finn might reappear at any moment. But… he is storing up the feelings for later.

"You know, if we're here, then my Sith mentor will likely be watching us?" Kylo says, hand tangling in Poe's dark curls, cradling him against his shoulder. "She's going to accuse us of corrupting the young. And I don't know for certain that the soundproofing on those shuttles covers over how loud _you_ get…" 

Poe shrugs. "They haven't complained yet." Hopefully this is because the soundproofing _is_ sufficient, and not because they're too scared to say anything.

As to the idea of a long-dead Lady of the Sith watching them… well. Sometimes it's best not to dwell on that. Partly because it's unshakeably weird, and partly because it brings out Poe's exhibitionist side.

Sort of. A little.

Kylo bites his lip. "I've been wondering about the last test. Do you… do you think we should tell them anything? I don't want to make it somehow worse, in compensation for them being aware before they go in. I don't know how well designed this place really is, but I suspect the answer is 'incredibly'." 

That makes Poe hold onto him tighter, but in a very different way. "I don't think we should tell them anything, no," he says. "Partly because this place might well react, but also… because they need to do this blind, the same way we did. So, when they succeed, their victory will be just as real."

It isn't easy though. They both know what the final test – tomorrow's test – entails.

_The dark place_.

"I thought so, too, I just… it's difficult. Not only is she my student, they're both my friends. And I wouldn't wish what happens in there on anyone, but it… it means she's better equipped to resist a fall. A little cruelty, for a greater kindness." Kylo's expression is wry. The cruelty isn't that little, but the alternative – the life of a Dark Sith, or a Dark Jedi – is far worse than a self-contained moment of your worst nightmares. 

Standing and waiting has been the hardest part of this. Of course, it hasn't just been – well – waiting, but they can't spend all their lives getting naked, apparently. "Would you like to spar a little, to take our minds off waiting?" The Sith hooks a thumb under the sabre-hilt at his right hip, the one that had belonged to Darth Vader. 

Poe looks at him in surprise, not because of the suggestion itself, but at the offer of that lightsabre. He was all-too-familiar with Kylo's first lightsabre – the one whose hilt now lives on as his own blaster – but he's only ever used this one once before. And he was… somewhat intoxicated on the night in question.

And… he really does overthink these lightsabres at times. But it's hard not to. Much of the history of the galaxy is written in blades like these.

There's a moment before he takes it, feeling the weight of it in his hand: both the physical weight – the perfect balance, the military precision – and the weight of memory. Of so much of that _history_.

Of a long road that led _here_.

He smiles. "You know I would."

Kylo watches his husband handle his ancestral blade with care, with respect, and is struck again by a wash of affection and love. Poe understands, and understands why Kylo had spent so many years in Darth Vader's shadow. Vader, Anakin… two names, one person. One person, impossible to understand without both aspects to his personality. He's glad he has the red sabre, though. It's more fitting than the one Rey wears.

The taller man steps back, then unhitches the blade on his left hip; one of the two weapons that used to belong to Snoke. He and Rey have both kept one, and they've been working to cleanse the depth of Darkness from them. Many of the blade crystals take their energy from their wielder, and the plasma arc now rings a vibrant, redder purple. Kylo doesn't know if he'll ever get the red completely out, but it no longer feels sinister and evil in his mind.

He ignites the older weapon, showing off with a few hand-to-hand twirls that draw perfect circles around him, and then he drops into a defensive stance. "You lead. I'll block." 

_That_ sabre, Poe is glad not to be holding. Much as he knows the terrible things that Darth Vader did, at the height of his powers, he also knows that the man was on a torturous, conflicted path that led ultimately to his redemption. To something – someone – _good_.

But the weapon Kylo is now holding… one of the two that belonged to Snoke… Poe has never touched. And isn't sure if he could. He's well-aware that Kylo and Rey have been gradually cleansing the Darkness from them, but at the same time… Snoke was a creature of the purest evil. There was not the slightest flicker of good, or possible redemption, anywhere in him.

That he is gone is a victory and a liberation that never, ever fades.

Poe thumbs the weapon in his hand to life, and vibrant red lances out, humming through the air. It really is a much easier sabre to handle than Kylo's first, though he misses that one all the same. Even if he is, technically, rarely without it, given that it lives on as his blaster.

"Try not to kick my ass _too_ hard," he says, with a self-deprecating grin, before immediately launching into his first attack.

"If I do, I'll kiss it better," Kylo replies easily, and lets the purple blade cut through the air to deflect the blow. He doesn't use Force-aided movements or shoves when they spar together. Not unless safety demands it, for Poe not to get hurt. It's nothing like an actual fight. Neither one wants to hurt the other, it's just an excuse to blow off steam and engage in recreational violence.

Which happens to make his boyfriend look hotter, too. That's an added bonus. 

Kylo does miss his cross-guards, but he also likes to stay alive, so their fighting is much more traditional, now. He can't catch the second blow, but he does turn it with a spin of his feet, making a sweep towards Poe's head (with every intention of killing the circuit if Poe doesn't move out of his way). 

Poe ducks quickly – blocking would be cumbersome in his current position and would certainly risk injury – and backs off just a little, increasing the space between them. It's… strange, fighting Kylo again, even if only as light-hearted sparring.

It's not as though he could forget the _last_ time. But… those thoughts are fuel for the fire, reminding him what he did, what he achieved, what he _took back_ , with nothing but a lightsabre and a desire to win.

He smiles, and launches in again, striking upwards and planting his feet firmly so he can push back when his blade connects with Kylo's.

Poe's strong, and Kylo has to use his weight to hold the two of them in stasis when the blades connect, bearing down as Poe pushes up. He steps in close, the two swords crackling, and leans around the hilts and their hands. "You're getting better. You been fighting with Snap, again? Maybe I should give you and Finn lessons."

There's a guilty little flicker in Poe's eyes at that. "Occasionally," he admits. "But only so I could try to impress you the next time you suggested this. And… it isn't quite the same when you're just using metal staves."

It isn't. For one thing, the risk of taking a limb off is significantly lessened.

"Maybe you should. He's about to become the second non-Force-sensitive Sith, after all. And _I_ enjoy it too much."

Push, step back, twirl of purple. "I suspect he'd enjoy it, too. And it won't hurt to have you both ready to do the basics of self-defence. And then you can teach me the basics of space-flight, so I don't end up crashing us on the off chance I'm needed to do something more than turn the cockpit lights up."

Kylo feints left, spins, and then sweeps across from top right to bottom left. 

"I'm looking forward to that part," Poe enthuses. He is. Much as he knows Kylo is not one of nature's pilots… he still thinks it will be fun.

If all else fails… there are other things he can do with an angry, growly Kylo.

The feint catches him a little by surprise, and he has to bring his blade up sharply, just managing to lock against Kylo's in time, and fighting hard to push him back.

"You might want to try tomorrow. The ground parts of it. Where no one is around to see if I fuck it up," Kylo suggests. "When we're… not otherwise occupied." Which they often are, when the other two aren't around.

Kylo thinks it is perfectly acceptable. He _is_ Master of Eigengrau, after all. He paces backwards, blade up to block, letting Poe make the next attempt. 

"Consider it a date," Poe agrees. " _My Apprentice_."

…He can get away with that once, right? Maybe?

Just in case he _can't_ , Poe swings in hard. Because it's tactically sound. And… because it might serve as sufficient distraction if he _can't_ get away with it.

Kylo rolls his eyes. There are different words for trainee pilots, and Poe knows it. So instead he takes the blow, then brings his foot out in a sweeping gesture. With brute strength, he smashes both sabres away, and drops Poe onto the ground. He straddles his waist, grabbing for his hands.

"What was that, best beloved?"

"… _It would be an honour, Master?_ " Poe tries, very quickly and perhaps less convincingly than he could. He's still breathing hard from the sparring, cheeks slightly flushed, and suddenly trying to concentrate on not looking target-shaped.

And on the exact opposite. Because… of reasons.

Because of _Eigengrau_.

Kylo leans down, almost kissing, but not letting his lips touch Poe's. Breath that strokes over his mouth, his cheek, his throat… an offer, and no deal sealed, and their fingers knot tight together. 

"I thought that was what you'd said. Because if you'd said something else, I might be forced to punish you, and you'd hate that, wouldn't you?" 

Poe's heart is racing so hard, he can hear it, and the only movement he dares even try to make is his unavoidable, still-rapid breath.

"Yes, Master," he answers, almost as quickly as before. "I would hate that. Hate to disappoint you."

Kylo purrs: "Good boy," and drops to bite gently at the curve of his neck. Teeth sinking in, a firm, firm suck and--

"…hey?" Finn calls out, from the other side of the arena. "…you want we… go back in for ten minutes?"

Kylo freezes. Shit. " _We'd need more than ten minutes_ ," Kylo thinks to Poe, his mouth still full of throat. 

" _And at least an hour for me to come down afterwards_ ," Poe has to add, before – with a certain amount of guilt in his voice, he calls out. "Uhm… hey guys. We'll… be right with you."

This would class as very, very bad timing, were he not extremely relieved to see the other two have made it back. (Although it is still bad timing. Just… on a different scale.)

Kylo kisses the bitten skin better, then sits up. "…and that's how you handle an opponent who decides to bite you," he mutters, even though no one will be fooled. 

"I… think maybe it's something else entirely," Rey manages. She looks drained, but intact, and a smile crosses her face as she looks over at them. "Did you miss us?"

"Very much," Poe replies, still flat on his back and pinned to the ground. "What did you think of the spinning blades?"

The Sith sighs, and helps Poe to his feet. He holds his hands out, summoning the unlit sabres to himself. They're clipped back on, and he brushes himself down, sorting out his hair in the process, too.

"Would it have killed you to give us any kind of warning about that?" Finn asks, sounding aggrieved.

"We thought you needed to… pass it properly," Kylo answers.

"Kylo's right," Poe agrees. "It's important you passed it on the same level we did. And… you did, so well done."

"How did you even do it?" Rey asks. "We had to move through it very close together, painfully slow, finding the safe spots where neither of us would be immediately cut in half. It was the only way I could find to keep Finn safe."

"We… tried something else," Poe answers, looking almost sheepish again. "We went one at a time. Kylo… literally controlled me at least half of the way. It was… strange."

That's one word for it, at least.

"He… what?" Finn looks between them. 

"I told him when to move, and for parts of it, I just… went into his head and did it," Kylo explains. "It was difficult. He's much shorter and can't jump as high, so I had to adjust for that. No offence, Poe."

Poe looks unfazed. "None taken. And… your way might have been slower," he says, to the other two, "but it certainly sounds less stressful."

"Nothing about that classes as 'less stressful'," Rey replies. "I can see why you need the Dark Side for this. Although, if you didn't have it at the start, I suspect you would by the end…"

"Frankly, it was the Lightning I hated," Kylo says, shuddering. "I could barely make my own. I had to use the bubble thing I taught you. Only… well. Let's say it wasn't easy sailing."

"…I don't even wanna know, do I?" Finn asks.

"Probably not," Poe answers. "Let's just say it hurt. A _lot_."

And not in a fun way. Although… OK, seriously, don't think about that now…

"I feel like I could sleep for a week," Rey says. She's leaning on Finn a little, although it seems to be as much about closeness as any kind of tiredness.

"We made dinner for you, if you want to go sit down," Kylo offers. "We can unwind for a bit, then call it an early night. Tomorrow's your last test, after all."

"…any tips?" The ex-trooper looks like maybe he'd appreciate some, but he also realises what the answer will be.

"It is what you take into it," is all Kylo will tell them. "Go, sit. Put your feet up. We'll look after you."

There is a little flicker in Rey's eyes at this, as if the words mean something but she doesn't know why. It lasts only a second, and then it is gone.

"Thank you," she replies, obviously meaning it, and she and Finn head over to the little makeshift seating area close to the two shuttles.

As they do, Poe leans in against Kylo again. "It's still hard, not telling them what's waiting for them in there," he says.

"I know. But we risk making it harder, and it's already hard enough." Kylo feels torn. He wants to be a good teacher, but he also wants to be a friend. It's difficult, and he wonders how hard Luke must have felt, trying to be firm with a family member. 

He pulls Poe against his hip, remembering how horrible it had felt, but how good when it had finally – properly – finished. "Not much longer, now. Then we can all go home." 

"Yes," Poe agrees, putting a hand up to gently trace over Kylo's chest again. "Home. Although… there are good parts about coming back here, too…"

A careful pause. "Like… that earlier sentiment, for example. Which I'm hoping you might be saving for later…"

A snap of teeth at his ear, when the others are far enough away, and Kylo licks between them before letting go. "Which sentiment, my beloved Apprentice?"

"The one where you had me flat on my back and _very_ much at your mercy," Poe answers, grinning. " _Master_."

Kylo's hand slides around to Poe's hip, and presses him against his side… and then lifts him up so he's slung under his arm for a few steps on the way to the stove. "I might be agreeable to that. Perhaps. We do have one day and one night left here, of course…" 

"We do. And we should make good use of them…"

***

The four sit together for a while, enjoying the food that Kylo has prepared and talking more about the day's test, but – perhaps unsurprisingly – Rey and Finn decide to head off to sleep relatively early on.

Although… it's possible what they're going to is 'bed' and not 'sleep'.

Either way, it sounds like a good idea. And they do have one more test yet to come. And… it is _that_ one.

When they've gone, Poe sits looking up at the stars, a little lost in thought. Off to the side, further down the amphitheatre, the cold remains of the escape pod – _the_ escape pod – sit where they fell, all those weeks ago, casting pale shadows in the moonlight.

There is so much memory here. So very much. Poe can only imagine what it's like when you add the Force into the mix, because it's intense enough for him.

"Something got your memory?" Kylo asks, nudging his boot to his lover's. Not forcing, just gently asking. He can feel the emotion isn't bad, but it is intense. "Anything in particular, or all of it?" 

It's strange being back here, with his Force powers intact throughout. Strange knowing what all the doors mean, what's behind them. What comes next. The first time around, they'd been fighting for their lives, as well as trying to work out who they were, and what they believed. So long ago, it seems. It does feel oddly like home, though.

"All of it," Poe admits, softly. "This place. It… it re-wrote _everything_. And everywhere I look… I can see the echoes of moments that define us. We had to leave here so quickly in the end, and being back again… it's strange. Like we never left. And… like we've been gone a long time."

He's still staring down at the escape pod. "I remember trying to fly that thing down here. I remember the impact. I remember… dragging you out of it when I thought it might be about to explode. I…"

"Thought about killing me, first. And I didn't even want to let you take my helmet off," Kylo says, amused. "You know… I think I actually got knocked out because I was trying to keep you alive, just before we hit the ground. I knew I had to protect you, at all costs." 

He'd been so afraid of his own reflection, back then. He'd felt naked, without the mask to keep his expression hidden. Snoke had muzzled him, had dehumanised him. It had been an effective technique, after all. 

"I never thought about killing you," Poe says, turning to look at him. "It never even occurred to me. Or… certainly not in any real way, at least."

At the time, he'd wondered if maybe he was losing his mind. He'd had the perfect chance to be free of his captor, and instead he'd saved the man's life. And it isn't just because Poe has never been the sort to let someone die in cold blood. Even then, it was… deeper.

"Not even a stray thought? About how that's what was safest, instead of stay around an angry Force-sensitive?" Kylo's head tilts, his hair falling in response. "It was the sensible, tactical move, you know. If we hadn't been bonded, it would have been the thing you should have done. I was dangerous, incredibly dangerous." 

Poe reaches to put a hand on the side of Kylo's face, light and gentle. "None of what I was doing at that point classes as 'sensible' or 'tactical'. I was caught between trying to survive and trying to work out why I couldn't stop provoking you. And then we crashed, and… I guess the thought must technically have crossed my mind, but I never gave it the slightest consideration. Some part of me… I wanted to save you. And I don't just mean from a burning escape pod."

Brown eyes close, and Kylo nuzzles affectionately closer. "Well, you did. You ripped me out of every shell I was hiding in, and saved me. Even though I gave you a fight before I let you in. You know… everyone was always too afraid of the great Kylo Ren to even say 'no' to me for long. It was… frustrating in the extreme. Then along came you, who had to fight even when you said _yes_. You were such a splash of water to my face." 

"I woke you up," Poe murmurs. "And you woke me up. And… look where it led us."

He has to press in for a kiss, now, but it's gentle, and careful, and not meant to provoke anything. Just… an expression of his love. He strokes his hand through Kylo's hair, keeping their foreheads together when the kiss finally breaks, eyes closed for a moment just to _feel_.

Kylo sighs happily when the kiss finishes, but… he can't help it. This place makes him nostalgic, and he remembers how long it was before they even had a bed together. Their relationship started here, under the watchful, dead stone faces of Sith long gone. This was their beginning, and now there's no monsters lurking for them. It makes him feel warm, and he slinks a hand up and behind Poe's neck, hot breath over his face. 

"Do you think you could not-wake up our Apprentices?" he asks, moving to straddle his lover's hips, to sit on top of his lap. Hand still behind his neck, holding them close together. "I know how you like to be vocal. But perhaps, for once, you could try the other thing?" 

"Somehow… I doubt they're asleep," Poe replies, with a little smile. "But… I will try to be quiet. For you."

It isn't easy. And sometimes it isn't choice-based. But… he can most assuredly try. Plus, Kylo is now straddling him, which brings the promise of so much more, and there's no way he's going to do anything to jeopardise that.

"Would it help if I give you incentive, or tried to gag you?" Kylo asks. He rocks his hips slowly across Poe's groin, and then shoves him down onto his back, both hands on his torso, stopping him from sitting back up. "Should I put my hand over your mouth and stifle any cries? Because you **do** talk more than Threepio, at times." 

A toss of his hair, and hands drag down, moving to pull at Poe's belt and buttons, unfastening his heavy-duty pants and then just sliding thumbs along his hip-bones. 

Poe's eyes go dark when Kylo pushes him down like that, and he doesn't resist in the slightest. How could he? How could he, when he wants this more than he can say?

"Whatever pleases you, Master," he whispers, heart racing. _Needing_.

The belt comes out of the loops. One by one by one. And then Kylo lifts Poe's head in one hand, and laces it around his face. Pushes the flat of it into his mouth, and ties the belt around in a makeshift gag. It does mean he can't voice anything complicated, but they can do that with the Bond, if they need to. No doubt Poe will.

That done, Kylo pulls his shirt up and starts to bite and lick over his exposed skin, burrowing his head under the fabric to work at it. He nips and nibbles, humming in low pleasure as he does it. Not giving him too much, not yet. This is as much about the build up as it is the main event, after all. 

There is a difference between being _quiet_ and being _silent_ , but some part of Poe makes him aim for the latter, rather than the former. He doubts it will last, although this is not the point.

Maybe he has something to prove. Or… maybe it's just the extra level of pressure that he enjoys.

Perhaps somewhere in between.

He can't stop his breath catching when Kylo starts doing _that_ , however; nor can he stop himself arching up into it in obvious appreciation, chasing more.

Kylo knows where Poe likes his tongue most, and he makes sure to chase the curves of his torso, the line under his ribs, then up to sink his teeth just under his nipple, teasing and not delivering. He pushes a hand into the front of his open pants, palming at the cotton stretched around his growing erection. Poe's always quick to warm up to him, and he uses the flat of his hand to slide up and down, up and down. Lower, fondling his balls through the material, then back to the not-enough strokes. 

The trouble with having to be quiet is that Poe likes giving feedback. Likes his lover to know how _good_ what he's doing really is. OK, yes, sometimes he also likes screaming the roof off just for the sake of it, but most of the time it is as much an act of appreciation as anything else. And… he can try to be quiet, to prove his obedience – and to prove he _can_ – but it leaves him with no outlet for the responses.

He _could_ scream them – silently – down their bond, but that feels like cheating. A little. Though he'll probably do it when he has no choice.

His fingertips tighten in his palms, a subtle act to suppress the tension. He can say a lot with his eyes, too, although right now they're pressed shut in response to that hand between his legs, to how desperately he needs this.

Amused, Kylo slides back down and pulls the pants down and down and down. Down to his knees, and he shoves his face between his legs, nosing roughly at his crotch. The cotton's starting to get a little damp where Poe's leaking a tiny bit of precum ready, and Kylo tries to lick it up through the fabric, not even caring about the taste. He keeps that up, then he hooks his thumbs in the waistband and tugs the rest of his clothes down, leaving his ankles trapped and his groin bare. 

Kylo lifts Poe's legs up and over his head, so the ankles are over his shoulders, and peers down. "Are you ready?" 

It's hard not to make a sound when Kylo starts doing wonderful, promising things with his tongue, but Poe manages to keep it to rough breaths and several _very_ appreciative gasps. Although, when Kylo then braces his legs like that… he can't help it, and lets out a little whimper of desperation.

And nods. A lot. It's certainly one way to make his feelings on the matter clear.

Kylo puts a hand under his balls and lifts them, holding them still to nuzzle and rub his face against them. Soft, soft touches that are mostly lip and cheek, then his nose pressing under his cock as he starts to suck one into his mouth. He pulls it in and laps hard with his tongue, worrying the hot skin with as much power as he can muster. 

Poe's eyes roll back at that more than a little, hips arching up into Kylo's touch. He's suddenly so hypersensitive that even gentle contact feels like having electricity drawn across his skin, and his breath goes ragged from the effort of keeping himself quiet.

It's pushing him deeper into his own head, too, the need to _surrender_ and to _obey_ and to _please his Master_ clashing somewhat with the unshakeable desire to scream the stars from the sky.

And he knows this is just the start.

" _Good_ ," Kylo sends along the bond, a soothing reassurance and praise as he moves to mouth over the other ball, pulling gently, edging his arousal higher. He lets them both fall into his hand and rolls them over his palm, hefting them up and then tonguing at the warm skin just below. " _There?_ "

Poe nods. A _lot_. Because this is a _very_ special kind of torture. He wants to beg for more. To tell Kylo how much he loves him. How much he needs him. He wants to promise the man the world, all over again.

But he can't. He whimpers a second time, unable to stop himself, eyes pleading with Kylo to _keep going_.

Kylo smiles, and lowers his head. He laps flat tongued over the crack between his thighs, pressing hard, drawing over the line of him, then circles around his hole. Around, around, still holding his balls up. Around and then he makes his tongue firm and slowly pushes inside. The Sith feels into his lover's mind, chasing the flickers of emotion and enjoyment as he starts to fuck him with his mouth.

He ignores Poe's dick entirely. That's for later. First is this, is eating him by degrees. 

The third whimper comes faster, and, if not louder, then definitely more high-pitched. It isn't that Poe is impatient, per se – in the grand scheme of things, he isn't – but more that not being able to speak is winding him up tighter and tighter, and all that energy has to go somewhere, but there _is_ nowhere, and…

" _Please, please, please_ ," he cries out, through their bond, unable to stop himself.

" _Please: what?_ " comes the question, as Kylo pushes his tongue in deeper. As deep as he can get it, before starting to move in earnest. He swirls his tongue around, widening him, tugging lightly on his balls as he does so. 

" _If you want something, ask nicely, pilot_." 

It's a good question. What _does_ Poe want? He certainly doesn't want Kylo to stop. There's no doubt about that. So… what, then? More? He definitely wants more, but at the same time he would be scared to ask for it, because if he's _already_ losing his mind, what will happen when Kylo dials it up?

But… he also wants that. Wants to be pushed. Wants to _keep_ losing his mind.

Nobody ever said masochism had to make sense.

" _I'm yours. I'm yours. Anything._ "

Sensing the turmoil, Kylo is amused. Of course his beloved has to tangle himself in knots so tightly. Of course. He'd expect no less. One finger pushes in under his tongue, and he slides it all the way inside as he keeps his mouth where it is. Gropes and prods around, trying to make Poe buck, as he widens his tongue and pulls out to just tug and tease at his puckered entrance. 

He lets go of Poe's balls – letting them fall on his nose – and goes for his dick, instead. Sure, hard strokes that aren't remotely in synch with his mouth. 

The sound Poe makes at _that_ is most assuredly not a whimper. It is half a groan and half a squeak, his head rocking back and his hips shaking under the onslaught. He needs. He needs so badly, he can't think. And he still wants to scream it to the skies and he _can't_ and wow, but the restriction is doing some strange, strange things to his head.

The Sith decides to slide his tongue in as deep as it goes, then pushes a second finger in. Poe is always pretty relaxed for him, and although he could take him without prep, he rarely is dumb enough to have to. Still, he can take two fingers like this, with his tongue spreading him wider. The wet slop of his mouth and a grunt as he uses his tongue to push up and up, his fingers pressing down, bearing him wider open for him to use.

" _You're doing so well_ ," he tells him, a trill of reassurance, deep in his mind. " _Keep those noises down. I can feel the sounds you don't make, too. It's so hot to hear you try to keep quiet._ " 

Poe can't even _think_ the words 'Yes, Master'. Not because he doesn't mean them – he most assuredly does – but because his mind is too incoherent now for anything like _words_.

There are sounds, though. Mental sounds. It is weird to think in sounds until you try, at which point it is still weird. But… it works. And, inside his head, Poe is crying out over and over; the kind of needy, desperate noises that would imply he was rapidly losing his mind.

If it wasn't already gone.

Kylo gives Poe's cock a few more strokes, then he moves his hands. Pulls his fingers out, then uses the middle digit of each hand to press in, pulling him wide like an opened envelope, shunting his tongue into the welcoming depths between his digits. Over and over, fighting to get in as far as possible, a hum in his mouth and his lips to translate into his body.

" _Going to make you come, first. Going to make you come, then use your own seed to fuck you back full,_ " he promises. Spreading his thighs wide, Kylo jabs his fingers deep in, rolling around and trying to find his prostate as he scrapes his incisors over the stretched skin of his hole, licking around the rim and humming to himself. 

Those words in his mind make Poe's whole body tense with need and want and _longing_ , and he gasps out loud, half-lifting his head to nod over and over. He drops back after a moment, lost in the stars high above, and in the hands of his lover.

And he's slipping closer and closer to the edge, Kylo's tongue and fingers dragging him towards release, every atom of his being screaming out for it.

When he finds that spot, Kylo pushes firmly against it, sending a warm pulse with his touch. He wants Poe to bliss out of his head, and he slides his tongue back in, then slams into his mind again. The onslaught doubles-down, powers through his body and mind to echo and amplify the sensations. A sense of encouragement, of love, of need and his own desire to slide in with his cock, just as soon as Poe's come. 

Instinct – and obedience – make Poe desperate to beg for permission before he comes. He can't do it out loud, but if he concentrates he can try to throw the thoughts down their bond in the hope that they will come out coherent enough to make sense. Or… to be enough. Only… then Kylo goes and does _that_ and the double push – mind and body, and all so _deep_ – nigh-on undoes him on the spot.

He hovers on the brink of an instant that is pure, perfect _torture_ , and then just **falls** , coming so hard his hips jerk upwards. Somehow he manages not to scream through the leather gagging him, but he isn't silent; making several short little whimpers as the sudden storm of pleasure pulls him apart.

The smaller sounds even feel more intimate, because of the power of control Kylo's exerting over Poe to make him hold back. That restraint, even in extremis, is a power and control to be lovingly cherished. Oh yes, it makes his eyes go black with appreciation, and he uses one hand to sweep up the evidence.

Sweep it up, pull back, then unfasten his own pants. Just enough to free his cock, and then he's stroking Poe's come all over his own dick, a tiny hiss of pleasure as he does so. "Are you ready for me, my pilot?" 

Eyes on him, waiting for the circuit to close before he continues. He holds his cock just at his entrance, not pushing it inside, not yet.

It's clear, from the look in his eyes alone, that Poe's mind is all but gone. His body is still shaking, though only subtly now, his breath ragged. But somehow, he manages to meet Kylo's eyes, just for a moment, before he nods.

And, even if he could beg out loud, he's not sure the words would come. Or, certainly not in any way that makes sense. He tries to think it across their bond, though; not so much coherent words as _feelings_.

Need. Want. Love. A desperate, soul-deep desire to make Kylo _happy_.

Kylo knows his pilot is out of his mind, and that's the point. He adores seeing that fucked-out look on Poe's face. The slack-mouthed bliss, the hazy happiness. The way he sort of glows and floats through their Bond, the way the world makes sense. Kylo loves that. He holds Poe's legs still, then pushes all the way inside.

Still sensitive, still hungry. Even after he's climaxed, he knows Poe will enjoy the sensation of being breached properly, of being filled, split, stuffed. "I love you," he hoarses out. "I love you so much." 

The feelings, the words, the _sensations_ , they all wash over Poe like dark, heavy water, pushing him down and down. He's still a bundle of need, but it's slower now; his climax having taken the edge off, and left him ready and eager to be _used_. To be everything Kylo wants. To let the other man take his pleasure from him, as hard – or not – as he chooses.

He nods for a moment, too; trying to answer without speaking. Trying to _think_ the intensity of his love, wanting Kylo to have a response.

Quieter, but somehow… closer. Almost. As if taking away the noises sharpens other senses. Not that he doesn't _love_ how vocal his lover is, but that this is nice, too. Kylo plants a knee and starts to slowly move in, out. In, out. Using the full length of his dick, holding off for as long as he can before the thrusting gets fiercer, sharper. 

Over, over, over. He's still in his mind, and he keeps that bright sensation going, the inner warmth and happiness as he picks up his pace, going harder into him. "You are so beautiful," he tells him. "Your surrender is your strength, you give all of yourself to me. I will take care of you, I will always take care of you. You are safe with me, Poe. You are safe with me." 

A promise, made long ago, always repeated, always meant. He drops over him, bites his lip around the leather of the belt, bites his throat and then lets go of the last bit of restraint to fuck him madly. 

Poe knows it, of course. He knows it as deeply as he knows the most fundamental truths of his life, because it is one of them. It is _true_ , and it has been from the start. It's why he can let go so completely and utterly: because he _knows_ he is always safe in Kylo's hands.

And he revels in it; especially now, when the last internal thread of tension snaps and he is just drifting, held in Kylo's grasp, giving him what's his.

_Everything_.

The Bond opens up with that strange other-feeling Poe sometimes drops into, the one Kylo finds so addictive to push him to. That other-place, the one that makes him relax all the way to his core. His lips curve in a smile, and he whispers against his throat: "Good." 

Good, and then he bites the belt in his lips, pulls it out of Poe's mouth, and tosses it to one side. Lips on his, tasting the leather as he pushes his own moan of bliss into his beloved's mouth as he hits that peak. Hits it, with a whole-body shudder. The power of being so in control, so sure and balanced and _known_ , **trusted** has him soaring higher than Poe's low, quiet place. Giddy heights, and he lets Poe feel some of it in response: a protective, adoring, proud affection and the sensation of coming inside his pilot. 

Poe doesn't make a sound when it happens; not beyond a single, blissed-out gasp against Kylo's lips, the world seeming to break all over again as he feels his lover come. He angles his hips, trying to give the other man as much as possible, still open, still offering. He can feel the emotion, too. The strange rush of _power_ Kylo experiences, standing in stark, brilliant counterpoint to the perfect surrender that has settled over Poe, and the two seem to wrap around each other in his mind.

And… when it's over, he lies in the soft, familiar grass, drifting. Smiling, just a little, albeit distantly. He feels… awake, alive, silent, sure.

_Eigengrau_.

Spent, Kylo curls into him, around him, covering and holding. A soft press of lips to the corner of his smile. "Rest. For a little. I will move you, before the night is out. Give our friends the chance to avoid seeing what they're missing out on, in not owning you."

That makes Poe reach up and wrap around his lover, holding on. He still can't speak, so he nods a few times, hazily, pressing his face into the curve of Kylo's neck and making a few murmured sounds that aren't words, but are very, _very_ happy.

And he lies like this for quite a while, curled in Kylo's arms, just enjoying being with him, his mind still so far down. But, in the quiet, gradually rising… at least, to a point where words are possible.

Eventually, holding on a little tighter again, he whispers, "…Thank you."

"Thank _you_ ," Kylo says, slipping gently from inside his lover's body. He slides an arm under his legs, gesturing that he wants to pick him up. "Shall I take you back to bed, and lay you gently down?"

More nodding. Nodding is a good way to be emphatic when words are still hard. "Please," Poe murmurs. "Need you to hold me. Need… yes."

Picking up the remains of clothing and gently pulling things around enough for transport, Kylo scoops Poe up and then takes him carefully to their fully equipped shuttle. This time they have a small bedding area, with food and drink and other facilities built in. He places Poe down, then carefully strips him bare. The same happens with his own clothes, and then he slides to lie against him, pulling his head onto his chest to toy with his hair.

"You can rest, now. You did so well, Poe. I'm so proud. So very in love with you."

"I love you too," Poe says, softly, curling in tight. He feels _so_ very good, and he wants to hold onto it as much as possible. "You're… _everything_. I still don't know how I got so lucky, but I think this planet had something to do with it."

He really is enjoying being back here. Yes, not all of his memories of the place are good – they went through a lot the first time around – but ultimately… Eigengrau is everything.

"No luckier than me," Kylo insists, kissing through his dark curls, breathing him in. He even smells of Kylo, more and more, every day. "Do you need anything, love? Can I get you anything at all?"

After all, it's important to take care of your husband. Kylo knows this. 

Poe smiles. "Just you," he murmurs. "All I need is you." He curls in tight again, pressed in against Kylo's chest, warm and held and so utterly, utterly content. It's as though the whole world goes still when he's like this; everything else falling away, leaving only them, only the moment.

Only now.

"You have me. Always, in every way," Kylo promises, and tucks the blankets tighter around him. "You have me. And I'm here, so you can slip back down… would you like me to push you further into the black?" 

The question takes Poe a little by surprise. He'd expected Kylo to just hold him whilst he drifts off to sleep, which would be extremely lovely in and of itself. Much as he does enjoy things rough, he also enjoys being wrapped in gentle arms and held close.

But… it's obvious, from the way his eyes are already dark when he looks up, which way his mind is leaning. The same way it will nigh-on always lean.

"Anything, Master," he says, soft and sure.

"I'll keep you just on the edge," Kylo promises, and the air gets a little thicker as he reaches out to Poe's mind, pressing down so that warm blanket of sensation gets heavier. Not so far he's utterly gone, but so he's barely aware of what's going on. So he can appreciate the comfort, and so waking up would be an uphill struggle. 

Poe's mind stays in the moment enough to feel the slower, tectonic thoughts, but that's all Kylo can feel and hear. It's so very relaxing to witness, and he can only imagine what Poe really thinks of it. 

Deeper, deeper, deeper… Poe can feel himself gradually falling inside his own head. It's not remotely unpleasant – on the contrary, it feels amazing – and he sinks slowly down and down, letting himself enjoy it; that warm, almost comforting mental weight. Like… being held in place, but not for anything remotely threatening or painful.

"… _love you_ …" he whispers, wanting to say it all over again.

Kisses that chase the arch of his face, from temple down to ear to jaw. "You're so beautiful like this. When you let me hold all of you. When you give me those parts of you deep inside. It makes me want to keep every single hair on your body safe."

And he does. He does want to. He rests one hand between Poe's thighs, cupping his cock and balls. He knows he's too spent to get aroused again, but it isn't for that. It's just for the pleasure of his sensitive areas being caressed, softly. Being loved, even when they're tired. "So beautiful. Just rest, now. When you sleep, dream of my hands on you, and you'll know you're loved beyond all sanity."

Poe nods, and nods… and then he goes still, slipping the last vestiges of consciousness and drifting into the warm, wonderful black.

And he's gone.


	3. Oasis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again, everyone! Today we bring you another Eigengrau chapter, in which the boys return at last to a very special place...
> 
> We hope you enjoy. We know they did! ;-)

The following morning sees the sun rising bright and hot over the Sith Temple, bathing the ground with heat, shimmering in the low haze as it begins its path across the sky. And it isn't long before figures start to emerge from their shuttles, in search of breakfast.

Rey is the first to appear, and she's sitting cutting fruit into sixths by the time Poe steps out, staring up at the sky for a moment, taking a deep breath. He feels… good. Really very good. It's hard not to, after a night like the one before.

But… he's also apprehensive. Not for himself, but for Rey and Finn. He knows what they're about to walk into, and it's so very hard to just _let them_. It has to be this way, yes, but that doesn't make it easy.

Not to send them there. Not to the dark place. The place where he saw…

"…You don't have to feel guilty, you know," Rey tells him, softly, which makes him look at her in surprise. Poe is more than used to Kylo being able to pick up on his emotions even without him trying to broadcast them, but it's still odd when Rey does it.

"Doesn't mean I can turn it off," he answers, wryly, moving to sit close by. "Sorry if I'm… loud."

Rey smiles. "It's all right. I just meant… it's OK. We'll be OK. I can feel it."

"I know you will," he replies. "And you'll be together. And… that is everything."

"It doesn't make it easier for us sending you in, knowing you'll be – challenged – and wishing we could help," Kylo explains further, emerging from their shuttle and coming behind Poe to kiss at the curve of his neck.

"Take it we don't need a big gun, huh?" Finn asks, resigned, as he too heads over.

Poe leans back against Kylo, smiling at the contact. "You already have what you need," he tells Finn, knowing he's being vague, but at the same time… knowing that it's true.

They do. They have each other.

"And breakfast," Rey adds, obviously trying to keep the tone light. "We also need that." She tugs Finn in closer, kissing him on the cheek, and then offers him some of the fruit she's been preparing.

"I think the breakfast is simply an optional extra, and not mandatory. Really… you're pampered. You could argue we're too kind to you," Kylo teases, very gently. Trying to break the thin ice of discomfort. 

"It makes up for all those spinning blades yesterday," Rey replies, settling next to Finn. She's obviously trying to be a little distracting too; to keep their minds on the moment and not on the question of what might be coming. "And the tightrope? Who puts a _tightrope_ in the middle of a Sith testing ground?"

"Darth Revan, apparently," Poe answers, with a flicker of a grin.

"You can ask her in person, most likely. She knows all about you, and if she hasn't appeared to you, yet, she may do once you become a Sith, as well as a Jedi." Kylo wonders if maybe they should have another title, or if that's just plain confusing. He definitely _feels_ more Sith than Jedi, but he accepts he's got a lot of that in him, too. 

"You… ever see them?" Finn asks Poe. 

Poe shakes his head. "No. I think maybe they can only be seen by Force-sensitives. But… I do think they've seen me."

How he manages to stop himself blushing, he isn't sure. But, somehow, he does.

"…now I feel less bad that I haven't seen anyone." Finn smiles. "Not sure what I'd even say to them, if I did."

Rey meanwhile, looks a little taken aback by Kylo's words. "You think so?" It must be a strange thing, to have some long-dead Sith suddenly turn up and talk to you. Poe knows Rey has seen Force-ghosts before – that Luke Skywalker appeared to her more than once, after his death – but there's a difference between someone you knew in life, and someone who died millennia before you were even born.

Also the whole galaxy-conquering thing. Even if there was redemption, _balance_ , in the end.

"Rey… you're going to head up her Order for her, as my equal. Why wouldn't she want to talk to you?" Kylo smiles, warmly, and sips at his mug of caf. "Don't forget, she was a Jedi, before she was a Sith." 

"What do you even say?" Rey asks, curiosity in her voice. "I mean… how _do_ you talk to someone who's been dead that long?"

"Well, the first time I met her, I thought she was Luke, and I gave her grief for dying." Kylo bites his tongue at the memory. "After that, I pretty much realised I'd goofed as much as you could goof, and I spoke to her with the respect I'd give someone who could create this, from nothing. Don't forget… we're finishing what she _couldn't_. You are her equal, if you pass through this testing arena. Or – if not equal – are capable of becoming thus." 

Rey nods. "I… will try to remember that," she says. "If it happens." A strange rustle in the air; a heat that doesn't come from the sun, and Rey's eyes flicker. "… _When_ it happens."

"When," Kylo echoes, with a soft nod. He knows she will. "You've come this far, you'll manage the final test. And then… then we start thinking about recruits, I suppose. I have a target audience to start with…"

"The Knights of Ren," Poe says, carefully. Feeling the sudden weight that comes with any mention of them, with the knowledge of what they represent. Of all that unfinished business, laden with memory.

Kylo smiles thin-lipped. "With two of us showing the way, I really do hope we can convince them to follow us. With Snoke gone, they have to see we're the strongest force. I was their Master for a reason, even though three of them were older than me. And that was _before_ Eigengrau."

"You think any of them might be swayed?" Rey asks. "I mean… the two we met on Akiva weren't exactly friendly…"

"We have to believe they can be," Poe answers. "We have to believe _everyone_ has the potential to come back. To be saved."

Except maybe Snoke. But that's a moot point now, of course.

"You didn't see me, before Eigengrau," Kylo tells Rey with careful words, carefully spoken. "I wasn't exactly 'friendly', either. And they had his control over them still in place. With his spell broken, more of them will be able to think critically, to examine their situation."

"And you can show them that they don't have to be the Jedi they don't feel right being, right?" Finn asks. "Like… that they can be this, instead." 

"Precisely." 

Poe puts a hand on Kylo's arm. "It won't be easy. But winning any of them back would be a massive, massive victory. And I _know_ it's possible. And…"

Before he can say any more, there comes the sound of stone scraping on stone… and, on the far side of the arena, the fifth arch opens up, revealing a dark passageway beyond. Poe stares over at it for a moment, feeling suddenly cold, but trying to keep the reaction out of his expression.

That part, he manages. Keeping it out of the _Force_ , evidently not so much.

"…What's in there?" Rey asks.

"Broken chains," is all Poe says in answer.

"Literally? Like… do we need to pack bolt-cutters?" Finn swallows, eyes a little haunted.

"You need only what you take in with you," Kylo replies. "But you'll do just fine. And when you come out… well. You'll get to meet Revan for the first time. As Sith." 

Rey rises to her feet, standing and staring over at the open arch. That hot breeze catches the air again, heavy with something deep and old… and then the moment passes, and Rey turns to offer Finn a hand up.

"Let's do this," she says.

Finn takes her hand, letting himself be helped. "All right. If you hear _too_ much screaming…?"

"We'll just put earplugs in," Kylo snarks, gently. "Seriously. Go. Then you can come back, and you will both be free." 

Rey nods, holding Kylo's eyes for a moment, before she and Finn set out across the amphitheatre, towards the arch. BB-8 bleeps something about seeing them off, and follows, almost as if it wants to be encouraging.

"Some part of me still wishes we could have warned them," Poe says, once the other two are long out of earshot. "Although… would you have gone in there, if you knew full-well what would happen when you did?"

"If I also knew what would happen once I came out? Yes." Kylo watches Poe's face for his reaction. "It was horrific, of course. But it was nothing compared to the actual reality. My worst nightmare almost came true when Snoke got inside of your mind. Nothing – nothing – he ever did to me could equal what I'd have felt if he did the same to you." 

That makes Poe curl in tight against him. "My worst nightmare _did_ come true when that door closed in my face and you were still on the other side of it. I guess… sometimes you don't realise what your worst nightmare _is_ until it happens."

He shivers. "But I still wouldn't want to repeat what happened to us in there. Though… I don't regret it, all the same."

It led them to something better, after all. To certainty. And peace of mind. And _this_.

"It likely made sure we could get through those nightmares, though. I'm sure without the tests and trials that I wouldn't have had the strength of character and will to survive." No, he really wouldn't have. 

Kylo's arm clutches his waist harder. "I know it was awful for you, to go. I know you hated going. But I **would** have broken, utterly, if he'd had any longer with you. I just… needed to protect you. And knowing I had, knowing I'd kept you from harm… that helped me not give in, not fully." 

"I know," Poe tells him, softly. "I know. And in the end… I took you back. I woke you up…"

He turns and slips into Kylo's lap, straddling him with slow grace, hands on his lover's shoulders. "And now, here you are. Master of the Knights of Eigengrau. And though getting to this point wasn't easy… you did it. We did it."

Sometimes he still can't quite believe that they did, that they won. That Snoke is dead, that the First Order is routed. That it's all as gloriously real as it seems.

"Master, and with my Apprentice by my side," Kylo agrees. "Which I love. Who I love. Basically, I'm the happiest I never was. That's all you, Poe." He leans in, arms around his torso, and kisses the corner of his mouth. 

"How long do you think we have?"

Poe can't quite help a smirk, leaning in closer, so they're almost nose-to-nose. "Long enough," he answers. "We were in there for _hours_."

All very true. Though this is possibly not why he's saying it with _that_ look in his eyes.

Kylo slams Poe against his chest, hands on his lower back, and pushes him down onto his groin, too. He snaps his teeth just before Poe's face. "You think we should… clean up, maybe?" 

He means the waterfall. Of course. How could he not? 

This gets him another smirk, and a pleased little eyeflicker. "Now that is a good idea. This planet gets _unnecessarily_ warm at times. Plus, you know how I like to keep myself presentable for you…"

He grinds in closer, hands sliding up into Kylo's hair. "… _Master_."

Kylo knots his hand into Poe's hair, yanking him back and so he has to arch his spine even discomfort and back. He grins, his free hand dragging down over his lover's bared torso. "Mmm. I think you should remind me how _clean_ you like to be, so I can sully your wonderful body and fill it with filth upon filth." 

"Is that what you'd like?" Poe gasps, somehow managing to sound more than a little wicked, despite his present position. "To watch the water cascading over my skin… to see the look in my eyes at the memories it provokes. To watch me slide fingers into myself, before I beg you to fuck me…"

Black eyes, and the hand in Poe's hair tightens to stinging. "I wonder how long you'd last, if I ever denied you. I wonder if you'd manage to get off while you were waiting. Those fingers all the way in, touching things that belong only to me… tell you it wasn't going to end the same way, make you wonder if I'm going to give it to you, and if so, if I'll forbid you from coming…" 

That makes something give inside Poe; makes him gasp out loud, all semblance of mischief lost in sudden, desperate obedience. "I will do anything you ask of me, Master," he says, voice suddenly rough. "I will beg for your mercy, but if you choose to deny me… I will keep taking whatever you wish to give me."

It's hard not to be scared by a promise – a _threat_ – like that. It's also hard not to be ridiculously turned on by it. This is the problem with having a mindset of this kind… and the joy of it all at once.

Both.

"Up. Get up. Strip. Take everything off for me, right here. Right now." Kylo's voice brooks no argument or disobedience. Level, sure, commanding. Still loving, under it all. "Make a show of it. Let me see the goods I own, pilot." 

Poe moves at once, rising to his feet with as much grace as he can manage when his heart is hammering in his chest. He steps back, so he's not right on top of Kylo – so the other man can watch – and slowly lifts his arms to take his shirt off. Pacing is the tricky part: fast enough that he actually gets somewhere, but slow enough that Kylo will get a good flash of stomach and hips before he – eventually – gets the whole picture.

Or, the whole _upper_ picture, at least. Tossing his shirt aside, Poe runs his hands over his skin, just for a moment, promising – _offering_ – so very much more. And then he runs those hands down to his waist, starting to unfasten his pants. He keeps his eyes lowered as he pushes clothing out of the way, letting his cock spring free, and leaving no doubt as to how turned on he is right now.

_Very_.

And then… lower, bending to pull off all his footwear (a little quicker, because it's hard to make boots and socks sexy), before slowly sliding his pants out of the way and off. And then, naked, he bows his head and – because he isn't kneeling – puts his hands behind his back.

Kylo watches with open, frank admiration. His beloved husband is the most beautiful thing to draw breath, and what's better is he knows it. He knows it, and that confidence is so alluring. He even makes Kylo forget his own insecurities, which is saying something. 

Beautiful. He bites his lip, and nods. "Turn. Slowly. And then bend over, and hold your cheeks apart so I can see the state of you." 

Poe flushes a little at the order, but he nods, without raising his eyes. "Yes, Master," he murmurs, and does as he's told, turning slowly with his hands still behind his back, and then sliding them lower as he bends, bearing himself open and holding the position with only a very slight wobble.

Confident he's going to be out of his mind long before this is over.

"Very good," Kylo purrs. "I want you to make it nice and ready for me. Over by the water. I want you to wash yourself from head to toe, cleanse yourself, and then I want you to lie over the rock and slide all the fingers you can in and fuck yourself until you're sure you can't take any more. Do you understand me?" 

"Yes, Master," Poe answers at once. "I understand."

He straightens slowly up, before turning and starting to walk down towards the oasis. _The_ oasis. He and Kylo have had some amazing experiences together, but when Poe dreams of them, he almost always dreams of here. Coming back – even with all the other memories that accompany it – has been a joy beyond all telling, and his eyes shutter closed with pleasure for a moment as he reaches the edge of the pool, water cascading down into it from high above.

That first night will always be in his mind. He smiles a little at the memory as he slowly, gradually, starts to pace into the cool water.

Kylo watches from afar, first, before he decides he needs a closer view. This time he's not walking stiffly, conscious of every shred of fabric lying heavily over his never-nude frame. He's not walking there, unsure of what comes next. He knows what comes next, because it's all his decision, his choice. He sits leaning back against a – _the_ – tree, and bends one knee. He drapes an arm over it, and watches.

Poe moves easily in the water, comfortable in it, almost gliding slowly across to the waterfall itself and cutting in beneath it, so the water pours right over him; a firm, lovely pressure that would be very enjoyable in its own right, even without everything else. Hands run over his skin – above and below the surface – keeping himself at a level where he can balance obedience and teasing. Though it isn't teasing that is meant as disobedience or defiance, of course. This is all to impress the other man. To make it good for him.

His hands slide higher, tracing through his hair, slicking it back from his face. He looks almost serene right now, although how he's managing it even he couldn't say.

"Enough." Kylo doesn't need to raise his voice, doesn't need to sound cruel. He just sounds sure, and certain of Poe's obedience. His eyes never leave his husband's face, and his posture is open and interested as he watches. He's already stiff inside his pants, and ignoring his erection is a sweet pleasurepain all of its own. "On the rock. Show me what's mine. Let me see your fingers disappear into your hole, let me see how much it wants me there, instead." 

With a graceful nod, Poe moves over to the rock in question, just to the right of the waterfall. He slips up onto it, water running in rivulets down his skin as he finds a workable position, both in terms of balance and access, and making sure Kylo has a good view. And… he moves his hand between his legs, ignoring his cock – remembering _that_ order, too – and starting to slowly, slowly push a finger into himself.

His eyes flicker as he does, a soft gasp slipping his lips. It's an enjoyable experience in its own right, but coupled with the weight of memory, the pleasure is _heady_.

Kylo's heart pounds thickly in his chest, his cheeks colouring, his hands tensing with his self-restraint.

"Tell me… the first time. Here, by the water. The first time you stripped for me… what did you want? Did you want me to pin you down and take you, without a single word? Did you want me to fuck you, to keep fucking you, to use you until your body was dry and empty? Did you want to be reduced down to nothing more than my sex slave?"

Not that Kylo could ever, in truth, use Poe only for that. He never had a desire to, outside of maybe a few hours of that and then back to what they really are. But it's safe to fantasise, and to talk big about temptations. Poe loves the thought of being used, and Kylo loves how much Poe wants it, how hot under the collar he gets at being reduced down to little more than a vessel. Not because he devalues himself, but because he wants to be wanted _that_ badly. To be desired so deeply, and to be taken so hard. If he didn't enjoy it for those reasons, or if Kylo didn't understand the reasoning behind it, it would taste false on his tongue. 

Poe meets Kylo's eyes across the water. It isn't meant as an act of defiance – oh no, nothing like that – but rather one of honesty. So Kylo can see, as well as feel, that Poe means what he's saying, when he answers.

"Some part of me did," he says, soft and sure. "Some part of me wanted to be taken, to be used, to be… overwhelmed by all that power you have. To know I was yours, that you could – and would – do anything you wanted to me. _With_ me. But… it was more than that. I wanted you to _want_ me. I wanted you to want me so badly that every instinct in your blood cried out to _claim_ me, until you couldn't resist it any longer."

" **Get yourself ready for me** ," Kylo growls, his own voice going darker, deeper, hungrier. "And know that no one else has ever made me want them. No one else has ever made me desire them. It is you, and only you. You _belong_ to me. You are **mine**."

He stands, and strips. No show, just efficient loss of clothing. It all goes, and Kylo is bare and proud and hungry. "I want you. I want you, and only you. And I want you so much that nothing in the galaxy could keep me from you, could take my husband from me."

The first of Kylo's words have barely slipped his lips before Poe pushes a second finger into himself, a little quicker and sharper than the first. Partly because he likes it, and partly for the unavoidable gasp it elicits, which he knows Kylo will hear.

"I am yours," he says in reply, the words more sure and certain than any other utterance he could make. "I belong to you."

A third finger, to ratchet the need up higher still – and not just in himself. Poe's eyes flicker at the way it feels, at the sensation of driving those three digits into his body. He fucks himself firmly, slowly, not wanting to push this too far. Not when he's confident Kylo is about to make a move.

Kylo closes the distance, grabs Poe's hand, and jams it harder in. As far as it will go, and then he keeps it inside as he drops to one knee and bites the back of Poe's neck in a claiming, feral snarl. His teeth almost break the skin, and then he uses Poe's own hand to fuck him with. He pounds at him, short, sharp jabs and the biting travels all along his neck and his shoulders, making sure he's going to mark tomorrow. Today. Both. He wants Poe's golden skin to darken with hurt. 

"You make my blood turn to molten metal," Kylo purrs, right by his ear. "Make me mad with how much I want you. I can't resist you. I **adore** you."

He pulls Poe's hand out from inside him, grabs both of his wrists and crosses them, holding them together with one of his own. Together… and then he lifts them up, stretching his arms behind and above him. His other hand finds his cock, and he slaps it hard before he holds the head for long enough to push the tip in, to use just the very tip to dip in and never sink home. 

"…Ohh fuck… fuck… " Poe manages, arching as he's held like that and then biting his lip to hold back a rather louder scream. He needs _more_. He _needs **more**_. "P-please… Master… I… needyouIneedyouIneedyoupleasepleasepleaseplease…"

His whole body is shaking now, with the tension, with the longing, and he feels like every inch of him is on fire. "I'm yours. I'm yours. Please take what's yours…"

"I'm going to." Kylo is. He so is. He keeps that punishing position in place, stretching Poe out at the shoulders, bending his spine and making him curve like a musical string under high tension. Tie it tight, pluck it into sound. He keeps up the shallow testing and teasing pushes into him, keeps up the not-enough penetration. He knows it will feel great at his hole, at his tender and wanting skin… but he also knows Poe feels empty when he's not being rammed full of his dick.

And he's just cruel enough to keep him on that edge for as long as he dares, before he's sliding slowly all the way in and holding. Holding, on the precipice. Right before they topple over, joined and as close as two lovers can be. "Tell me what you need, pet." 

The need and the teasing and the _promising_ is enough to push Poe right over the mental edge, and suddenly his mouth is running like there's no tomorrow. "Fuck me, Master, please fuck me, I'm begging you, _begging you_ , please, I need you, I need you so much I can't think, can't breathe, I need you to claim me all over again, need you to break me in two, need you to white out my mind… you're the only one who ever could, the only one I would ever want to, yours, all yours, Master… _please_ …"

His eyes meet Kylo's, wild and dark and desperate, full of a pleading of their own. Begging him for more. For _everything_.

With care (and a Force cushion) Kylo slams Poe's face down into the rock with the heel of his hand on his cheek. It's more for the emotional shock than anything else, as he ensures there's not actually a skull-crunching impact. His hand stays there, squashing at his cheek, and he uses the two wrists as reins, leverage to fuck up against as he starts to move in earnest. His breathing goes harsh and loud as he moves faster by the moment, tight and fierce and loving as he uses his husband for all he's worth.

"You're going to come, and I'm going to grab that mess, slide it over my cock, then fuck it back into you," Kylo growls. "Going to fuck it out of you a _second_ time. Going to stroke you inside until you're shuddering away from my touch. Going to take you so hard it's a wonder _Carth_ can't hear you through the Force, let alone Revan." 

Poe _does_ scream at that, though there's no coherence in it – and quite a lot of shock, because _fuck_ – and now his heart is racing so hard it actually hurts. He tries to summon up some kind of word-based reply, once he's caught his breath, but it just devolves into another, slightly less loud series of sounds.

He's out of his head, now. Completely, utterly, out of his head. The mess of feelings flooding through him – pain, pleasure, and everything in between – all just meld into one great tangle of _sensation_ , all intertwined and indistinguishable from everything else. It – _he_ – just is.

" _Please_ ," he finally manages, the word little more than a shuddering breath and laden with so much desperate longing that it's hard to process how one human being could _feel_ so intensely.

But he does.

"Know you're mine. Know your heart is mine. Your soul is mine. Your body is mine. Your pleasure is mine." A mantra, almost, rhythmic and resonant. Kylo snaps at Poe's wrists, the gesture painful, and for a moment it almost sounds like bone snapped, but it didn't. He roars deep into Poe's mind, slamming the command to climax as he trips the remaining switches he can still feel unclosed.

He's determined to fuck the come out of him, without a single touch to his cock. Determined to make that delicious, dark, hungry place his and his alone. To feel his own pleasure shortly after, and to bask in their sweaty love. 

And Poe screams loud enough to leave his throat raw; a broken, animalistic sound of a man absolutely _shattering_ under his lover's will. He comes so hard and so fast that he can barely breathe, nigh-on thrashing in Kylo's grip, every last drop of energy given up to the force of it. It's a pleasure that is a pain, that is a pleasure. One and the same; a spectrum and a circle.

When it's over, he drops down, limp and exhausted and well-aware that _none_ of this is actually _over_.

"…Yours… Master… yours…" he tries to say. His lips form the words, clear enough to be understood, but no sound comes out.

Kylo uses the Force to hold Poe's wrists together, and he pulls him up and slides hands over Poe's stomach and dick, grabbing the splattered remnants of his climax. As promised, he pulls out of his body, smearing the come over his cock, hissing at the feel of it. 

"I'm nowhere near done." Back in he goes, and the Force presses down on Poe's shoulderblades as his hands are pulled up, locked between equal and opposite forces. Fingers grab his hips as he shifts to angle himself deeper, wanting to pound and slam against his prostate, needing to make him yell all over again. 

Yelling is one of the few things Poe can do right now, and boy can he do it. That slam in makes him scream once more; a cracked but heartfelt cry of need and desperation and _desire_.

"Y-yours," he tries to choke out, rough and broken, his whole voice juddering under the onslaught. One look in his eyes would be enough to see how gone he is; the line between his mind and his body a long, long tether that's so close to snapping.

" **Mine** ," Kylo agrees. "You can't resist me. Couldn't fight me off if you wanted to. I'm going to have you, no matter what. I'm going to fuck you til you pass out from it. I need you so much that nothing could stop me, Poe. Nothing. You _belong to me_." 

And all of a sudden the sensation from before peaks all over, the climax fireworks pulled through Poe's body as his lover takes him with everything he has. Poe's body welcomes every last thrust into him, pulls him deeper, urges his pleasure higher. Kylo's drunk with the possibility of it, and his proud and controlling adoration hurtles through Poe's mind as he tries to pull a second orgasm from him before the aftershocks of the first have stopped. 

_Yes_. Yes, yes, yes. This is what Poe wants; what he craves more than _anything_. The helplessness, the insistence, the _force_ , the overpowering wave of the other man's will, but tempered by the knowledge of being needed, being _loved_ , more than everything. Of knowing that this is happening because both of them crave it; because it's an act of shared desire; a realisation of what they both want.

He screams. He screams until he runs out of breath, until he runs out of voice, and then he goes silent, broken, body still shaking under the overwhelming force crashing through him. How he's still conscious, he isn't sure – or he wouldn't be, if he was sensible enough to think it – and he shatters all over again, both at the way Kylo trips through his mind and body, and at the knowledge that the other man can _keep_ doing it until Poe literally blacks out.

And that? He wants it. And is terrified by it. Both. Both at once.

Kylo knows his lover is close. Knows he's almost not even in the moment, and it's an inferno inside of him. That edge they toe, they dance around, looking over and into the depths and enjoying the swirl in the stomach as a result.

Kylo loves the vertigo. Adores it. "I'm going to fuck you out of your mind. I'm going-- going to--" He does his own equivalent of screaming. Screaming need to own and take and adore, rather than be taken and adore. Adored. Both. He finds his climax hitting hard, a sledgehammer of sensation as he ruts up and into Poe until he's unable to move any longer, buried so far into him.

Love, love, lust and more love. That's screamed through their Bond so all the Force must know it's real. He peers down at Poe, not sure if he's awake or not. Maybe both. Often both.

"My love," Kylo whispers, and lies flat-out atop of him. 

***

It's quite some time before Poe's mind starts to come back. _Quite_ some time. He lies adrift in a place that isn't exactly sleep, and isn't exactly awake, floating on sensation that defies description, but which is easily one of the greatest feelings in all of existence.

It's hard to say what, precisely, makes his mind slip back above the surface. There's no obvious stimulus; it just sort of… does.

"…Kylo…" he murmurs.

"Yes, Poe?" He can't help but sound smugly self-satisfied. He loves taking his lover out of his head like that, and the soft place he lives in for the time before he comes up again. "Are you comfortable?"

" _Yeah_ ," the pilot manages, still sounding a million miles away. "Think you…" Pause. Concentrate. The words are in there, but getting them out is amazingly difficult. "…Think you broke me…"

From the smile on his face, he isn't exactly objecting.

"Think I might have," Kylo agrees, hand dragging slowly over Poe's side, kisses getting fierce on the nape of his neck. "Damn, but I love you. And love doing that to you. You drive me out of my head with how much I want you, you do realise?" 

He's exhausted from before, but he can still slide a trickle of warm affection, rather than heady arousal, into his husband's mind. 

"…Yeah…" Poe breathes a second time, still beaming widely. "Feeling's… thing. Mutual. That."

The renewed attention, even much less intense, makes his eyes flicker and his breath catch, and he shivers a little under it. "…Going to… going to break me again… "

"Well. I do love you broken. You get this look in your eyes, and you **glow**. I mean… literally. And your breathing sounds like sex and your body goes soft and pliant…" Kylo very much enjoys broken Poe. Broken-in-good-ways Poe. Yep. 

"I'm going to miss this place when we have to get back to society again. Good to know we can come for vacation times, though?" 

"We should," Poe agrees, intelligently. Emphatically. "Lots. Because… tradition."

Also, mind-blowing sex. The sex is _always_ mind-blowing, but something about Eigengrau makes it even more so. Maybe the history. Maybe the raw power, coiled through the air. Maybe both.

"I will have to clean you off for when the kids come home. Considering they'll be emotionally scarred for life as it is, I don't think they should walk in on Daddy and Daddy naked and spooning." Plus Kylo's been having enough difficulty knowing there's another Force-sensitive and bondsmate in close proximity to their – ahem – activities.

And likely engaging in their own. Which. No. It's wrong. Finn is like… well. They're both closer to siblings than anything else, really. 

"They probably think it's cute…" is Poe's response to this. Not because he wants the other two to intrude on them – or vice-versa – but because right now his mind is still in the special place, and as such _everything_ feels warm and lovely and good.

"But… yes. Cleaning. Waterfall. Mmmmm…"

"I don't want them to think about you like this. I thought we had this conversation already…" A sharp shunt of his hips against Poe's ass. "This is for me. They get to see your eyes and throat, but no one gets to see your ass pink and dripping but _me_ , pilot."

And there's the jealous little snarl. Thankfully, Poe only gets off on it.

And boy, does he ever. Poe's eyes practically roll up at that, going distant and _delighted_. "Yes, Master," he says, softly, obediently. Meaning it. "Only you, Master."

"Your neck looks like someone rained down a meteor storm on you, though…" Not that Kylo objects. His fingers trail from one soft, tender spot to the next. "Those won't wash off. But I can definitely put you back in the water and slip my fist inside you to clean you thoroughly out… what would you say to that, my best beloved?" 

" _Fuckyesplease_ , Master, I…" Poe starts out, entirely on instinct, looking utterly, gloriously caught. "That. Please, that. Please."

For a man who has not all that long ago been fucked right out of his mind, he really should not sound _quite_ so eager. Not that this will stop him. Not _here_. Or, you know, ever.

The Sith slides slowly out from inside him, then drops into the water. He grabs Poe's hips and turns him, sliding him so just his upper torso is in the fresh air, and drags hands over his ass. "Don't worry, Poe. I'll make you nice and clean. So clean your ass would pass muster." 

Poe couldn't resist this even if he wanted to – and he certainly doesn't want to – so he just sinks into the cool, lovely water, still half caught on the rock above, balanced right where Kylo wants him.

"Please…" he keeps murmuring, so very gone and so completely loving it. He certainly won't be coming back _up_ any time soon.

"Always," Kylo promises, and slides four fingers in to the first knuckle. Poe's body welcomes them in, and he starts to widen him for his whole hand, fingers trailing through the mingled two sets of come and lube that goops up his insides. "Going to make you so very clean for me, my precious Poe. My heart."

Four fingers, they twist and turn. It isn't too long before the hand fits in as promised, and Poe's howls shake the trees around them in protest.

And, of course, in bliss.


	4. All In A Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday, everyone! We return with another chapter, in which there is PLOT...
> 
> ...from _both_ sides of the story... ;-)

It's some time later. _Quite_ some time. By now, the sun is sinking low on the horizon, the sky lit with vibrant orange, colouring what few clouds there are. On the edge of the campsite, Kylo and Poe sit half-tangled together – Poe in Kylo's lap – quiet and still.

They're both dressed again, and therefore presentable enough, although it's obvious from the look in Poe's eyes that he hasn't fully returned from the happy place, yet. Not completely. Right now, he's just enjoying the closeness, the low, sated heat of a man who has had a truly wonderful day.

And then… movement, on the far side of the amphitheatre. Two figures walking slowly out of the archway that leads to the fifth and final test. To the Dark Place. Poe's heart leaps with relief when he sees Rey and Finn, pacing wearily out into the evening sunlight. They're close together, each with an arm around the other, and they pause on the threshold, looking out across the amphitheatre.

At its head, the rough scrape of stone indicates the opening of the arch leading into the high temple. _Revan's_ temple. The culmination, the resolution, to all of this. They give a distant nod to Kylo and Poe, and then set off in the direction of said temple, heading up into it and out of sight once more.

"Well, they did it," Poe says. He's had every confidence in them, but that doesn't mean he can't be relieved to be proven right. Especially considering what they will have gone through in there.

"They did. Now there's four… Jedi… Sith… things. I know I'm both, but… does that mean we should start having another name, or do you think it depends on which way someone finds their inclinations lead?" Kylo's babbling just a little; relieved, but still nervous. He knows how much of a hell they've just been through, and he wants to reassure them it's done, now. 

"I guess it depends on how people see themselves," Poe answers. "I mean… you see yourself as a Sith first and foremost, and I think Rey will always see herself as a Jedi. Maybe others might think of it differently, when there are more of you, but so far… it seems to work."

"Primary class: Sith. Secondary class: Jedi. Over-all specialisation: Knight – or Master – of Eigengrau?" Kylo clucks his tongue against his teeth in thought. "That works. I don't want to really lose either term, even if we've expanded what they can be. There is still heritage on both sides – good and bad – and a weight of meaning behind the names." 

Poe nods. "Exactly. Way too much history. Yes, you're changing things, but at the same time you're not just wiping away what went before."

He looks up towards the temple. "I wonder what they make of her. Revan, I mean. Although… I don't think anyone could ever look quite so _right_ as you did, the night we saw that holocron."

"Stop, or we'll be frustrated if they didn't find the – ah – conclusion as provoking as we did," Kylo says, swatting idly at the man in his lap. "I couldn't keep my damn hands off you. I was just… I was just so happy." 

He was, and it's still there, in his tone. His freedom, or the first step to it. No wonder he'd screwed Poe senseless. 

That makes Poe laugh, warmly, and push up so they're nose-to-nose. "I remember. _Vividly_. The joy and the liberation was just radiating off you, and I wanted to help you celebrate. Also I happen to like it when you fuck my brains out."

A grin, arms on Kylo's shoulders, fingers in his hair. "…You think they _are_ finding the conclusion as provoking as we did?" he can't help asking, in a mixture of mischief and genuine curiosity.

"I don't like to speculate about others' sex lives… though… we'll know if they take their sweet time getting back to us. And we'll have to pretend like we don't know why they're red and ruffled…" Kylo shudders, slightly. Not from disgust, but from the discomfort of privacy invaded.

"They do owe us one in that respect," Poe can't help adding, now swinging very much towards the mischief-angle. "Probably more than one. I mean… we're not exactly subtle about what we get up to, even if we don't outright do it in front of them…"

"Poe, do you want to live as a chaste and unfucked man for the rest of your life? Because you're heading right for unfucked city at the course you've plotted…" 

"Hey, nothing wrong with wishing a little happiness for the people who matter," Poe counters. "They might not be having _quite_ as much fun as me, but they can come close…"

"It's more that I don't want to think about people who aren't you when I should be – ahem – thinking of you. And if I think they're thinking about _me_ **doing** those things to you… no. It… no." He's a lot more relaxed, but there's limits to what he finds comfortable. 

Even if his parents have been told who tops.

Still not forgiven Poe for that, or Han. 

This makes Poe blush, though only a little. "But… don't you enjoy making them just a little bit jealous? I mean, we're married, so there's no doubt we're getting up to things." Even for those people who _haven't_ heard the screaming…

"No. Because they have one another. And… Poe, I'm going to be blunt, now: when you have to hear people thinking about what they intend to do to one another, when you haven't got the skill to block it out? It sort of… makes you… ah…" He wriggles. "Let's just say I'd be mortified if I thought anyone heard half the things I think about you." 

Poe kisses him softly. "And here I was thinking having Force-powers was all about extraordinary combat prowess and levitating things." He smiles again, hand on Kylo's face. "I was winding you up, you know. Just a little. I'm not actually suggesting we broadcast our private lives to everyone within earshot." Often.

"Don't you think they already know?" Kylo trails a finger over the obvious marks that his lips have left, swirling between the florid marks and pressing on the most obvious ones. "Don't you think everyone's heard you anyway?" 

That wicked look flashes in Poe's eyes again, along with a clear flicker of pleasure at the fingers on his neck. "You tell me," he all but purrs. "You're the one who had me screaming myself hoarse in the forest five minutes after I took you home for the first time."

"I don't recall you complaining. Even when it was obvious your best friend was trying to listen in and see if I was murdering you or making you happier than you've ever been…" 

"He wanted to make sure you weren't evil! And he still hasn't forgiven me for the noises, which are completely not my fault, given that he was listening and you were provoking. And… shush. He likes you now. On account of how loveable you are."

"…and not because of the noises I make you make?" Kylo drops to bite at Poe's neck some, wondering how many he can provoke before their friends get back. 

This gets him some rather needy whimpering; doubly-so because Poe knows they don't have time to do anything involved. "…Well I think they were a good sign…" he manages. "Happy, enthusiastic noises. No indication that you were plotting to enslave the galaxy, starting with me…"

"Already enslaved you," Kylo rumbles, and puts a hand under his jaw to tilt his head back, to give him more access to suck and nibble. He can keep a lid on Poe's arousal, keep it from spiking too high, and he fully intends to do so if the others make the mistake of not consummating their new-found Sithhood by screwing like rabid Wampas on the temple floor. 

Although, given that there's no sign of said other two yet, it's looking increasingly likely that this is _precisely_ what they're doing.

" _Fiend_ ," Poe breathes, not at all convincingly, as he arches back even more, trying to give Kylo as much access as he wants.

" **Sith** ," Kylo corrects him, and then his hand on his throat tightens, choking out the air and then holding him so they gaze at one another from close up. So he can see Poe fight for breath. See, and be delighted by. 

The pilot's eyes flicker again, rather more this time; all dark pupils, and sinking fast. He doesn't quite have the breath for a smart answer, so he contents himself with an enthusiastic nod, and a look of pure need.

"Y-yes," he manages. "Yes. _Master_."

Kylo can't spare the time to do what he really wants with Poe (and, to be fair, has spent most of this week doing), but he does have a few tricks up his sleeve. "I'll bring you back up the minute I hear footsteps. Or… shortly after." 

No, the minute, but the promise-threat of more is still fun. He keeps his eyes on Poe and then the air gets heavy as he bears down and into his mind, finding the lines of pleasure and urging them through him, without affecting his cock overmuch. He needs not to make a mess of _these_ clothes, too. 

" _Ohhh_ ," Poe breathes, a little shudder running all the way through him, as he feels the pressure, the _presence_ , in his head. "K-Kylo… _pleaseyes_ …"

He doesn't think he could ever stop loving this. This intimacy that is all them, _just_ them.

"Don't worry. I won't let you make a mess of yourself. Just this… just us…" Kylo loves to use his powers this way, to play Poe's body and heart and mind like an instrument. He loves being able to cause such pleasure and satisfaction, and he feeds his own, smug feelings trickling in. "Just a little reminder of what we can do once we hit hyperspace."

No, Kylo is not a nymphomaniac, really. 

Poe smiles, hazy now, mind sinking easily considering what he's been doing all day. "I hit hyperspace quite a while back," he says, though he looks very pleased by the implications nonetheless.

They did come here in _two_ shuttles, after all.

"Well, you have to put the ship there, too. Or else Rey and Finn will be going back to Tahanan without us, and filing a report about our absence…" Kylo's hand turns soft on Poe's throat, and he holds his head back for kisses, now. Lazy ones, happy ones, and he slides his tongue through to taste his lover's mouth all over again. 

"Not a problem," Poe insists, intelligently. "I'm _very_ good at flying." He parts his lips eagerly, letting Kylo kiss him, making soft murmurs of appreciation as he does. And his hands go to hold on a little tighter, the only outlet for the tension building inside him, slow but undeniable.

" _You keep your ass off the comm button this time, or you're sitting in my lap the whole way home_ ," Kylo threatens (promises?) as he takes his time devouring his mouth. His fingers go to stroke over his flank, over his back, making sure he feels blanketed with touch and love. 

Poe smirks, the memory a welcome one. "I was sitting in your lap _that_ time, too," he reminds his husband. "Though the wide-band broadcast of my ecstatic screaming _was_ accidental, I assure you."

"I mean it. If you let the whole base hear you on my dick then I'm gagging you for the rest of your natural life. I don't care how it interferes with your work. You'll find some way to communicate with your hands." Kylo's teasing, though, not really annoyed in the slightest. 

"You'd miss my voice. The way I gasp your name when I'm coming. The way I plead with you for mercy when you have me right on the edge. The way I promise you the galaxy for just one more touch of your hand, gentle or rough…"

Also the way he flirts like a shameless wanton. That too.

Kylo's eyes go wicked, and he flicks at his hold in Poe's body, using the pleasure centres and bypassing the normal release parts. It's a difficult trick to pull off, but Poe's already come so many times over the last few days that he's got the damn parts of him as mental shortcuts. A torrent of pleasure without physical emission slams right into Poe. "You were saying?" 

Having anticipated something like this, Poe is able to keep himself from full-on screaming, though he does still cry out, desperate and needing and _delighted_. The world goes hazy, and he almost falls sideways, losing himself in the sudden onslaught.

"Y-yes…" he gasps. "Oh yes… please… _Kylo_ …"

Kylo keeps him coasting at that level, and strokes fingers through Poe's hair, shhing gently as he doesn't relax the sensation. "Good boy, good boy," he purrs. "Just like that?" 

" _Yes_ ," Poe manages, suddenly high-pitched and lost. And loving it. "Like that. Just like that. I'm yours, Master. All yours." He's coasting the wave of bliss, now, trying to remember to breathe, utterly giving in to the way it makes him feel.

"All mine," Kylo agrees. "Just mine. Just for me. But I think I hear people coming… are you ready to come back around, my wonderful husband?" 

Sometimes, Poe doesn't ever want to come back around. But… the galaxy is no doubt calling, and that hyperspace promise still stands…

He nods. "Yes, Master. Yes."

Kylo slowly lets the feeling die down. Just the intensity of it, leaving the low, satisfied buzz behind, so Poe can function and feel good at once. "Come slowly back. Just long enough to get on the ship. All right? I'm here. I'm here with you." He pulls him in for a very tight hug. "I love you." 

Poe curls in tight, exhaling softly, contentedly. "I love you too," he says, like it's the surest truth in the universe. Because it is. "You're so amazing. So utterly amazing…"

He gets a moment to enjoy the closeness – and to try to pull his mind back to the here and now – and then the other two finally draw close again. Rey and Finn look… like people who have just been through the final test. And then gone to witness Revan's deus-ex-holocron.

And… they also look subtly dishevelled. Subtly.

Kylo bites his lip, and calls over to them. "Welcome back, Master Rey… Apprentice Finn." 

"…Still getting used to that," Rey answers. She looks a mixture of elated and exhausted. "So… we're actually Sith now."

"Yep. And you're a Jedi, but I'm afraid these two are only Sith." Kylo's grin gets wicked. "So the Sith are technically winning."

"Hey! Why can't I be a Jedi, but I can be a Sith?" Finn pouts.

"Because Darth Revan and I said so." Kylo shrugs. "Those are the rules."

Poe grins. Apparently 'because Darth Revan said so' _is_ now a thing.

"Besides… if you had to pick one, it'd be Sith," the pilot remarks, still looking a little spaced-out. "…No offence," he adds, hastily looking over at Rey.

The air between them seems suddenly… electric. Rey smiles. "None taken," she says, oh-so-levelly.

" _Well, **you** picked a Sith. And I'm glad. Even if she's out of the running due to her plumbing_." Kylo wonders if the other two have as many unheard conversations as they do. He hopes not. "He's my Pilot, you keep your own."

Rey actually blushes, albeit only a little. "I've had no complaints so far…" And she drops down to sit on the ground opposite the other two, tugging Finn in next to her. She's putting a brave face on everything, but it's obvious she's still somewhat rattled by what happened during the final test.

Poe wonders what the two of them saw in there. He has a few ideas, and none of them are pleasant.

"Do you… want to talk about it?" Kylo glances to Poe, then the two, then back. "It might take a while for you to process the visions."

"Right. Like… how long is a while?" Finn asks. "'Cause… man." 

"Just… don't expect it to happen overnight," Poe says, tightening his hold on Kylo as he does. "Those visions are a lot deeper than they might seem at first. Processing them takes time. But that's to be expected. When you're ready, you can tell us about them if you want to, but don't feel you have to. The only one you _need_ to discuss them with is each other."

"Can I..?" Rey starts out, and then falls silent for a moment, looking worried. "Can I ask one question now? Those visions… the first parts were memories from our pasts. Things that actually happened. But the second parts… they were the future. Or could be. Or…"

She looks down, running her hands through her hair, obviously alarmed.

"…Does anything from them come true?"

"It can do, in a fashion. It doesn't _have_ to." Kylo's hand moves to Poe's lower back, a subtle heat radiating out. "I… replaced Snoke. And fought my grandfather, who is most assuredly dead. There will be elements of possibility, but it is **not** set in stone."

"Right." Finn sounds broken. He really does. "Don't suppose you got like, a second vision later, when you… stopped the bad thing happening?"

"Afraid not." 

Rey tightens her hold on Finn at that, curling in closer.

"In the end… those visions tell you what _could_ happen," Poe says, trying to make this better. Trying to remember the positivity he found in it, when it was all over. "But they also show you your greatest fear. They help you understand it, so you can choose a different path. Your _own_ path. ' _Through victory, my chains are broken_ '. That's what happened in there, even though it doesn't feel like it yet. You came through those visions, and now you're free. You're _awake_ , and this is reality, and no one else shapes it for you. You shape it for yourself."

"Poe's right, of course. By coming through the other side, you've come to know who and what you are. You know what it is you fear you _could_ be, but you made your decision. You chose **this**. You'll have to _keep_ choosing this, but you'll be able to, now." Like he had been. 

It's why he's not Supreme Leader Kylo, after all.

"Was that a… Sith thing, then? Because… it kind of felt like maybe it wasn't." The ex-trooper shuffles slightly. "I know it's a different kind of Sith, but I sort of feel like the originals wouldn't have had that kind of a test?"

"It is… deeper than the kind of tests the more traditional Sith used," Rey says, and it's clear at once she's been researching what she can. Most of the ancient texts on the Sith and the Jedi are long gone – or, at least, long lost – but snippets still exist. "Or, it certainly is the way the Jedi tell it, at least. They themselves actually favoured a test more like what we just went through. They would find locations strong in the Dark Side of the Force, and use them to make initiates face their greatest fears."

She looks down, pensive. "Master Skywalker told me about one," she says. "On Dagobah, the planet where he learned the ways of the Jedi from Master Yoda. He fought a vision of Darth Vader, only to find it was he himself who he was facing. But other places like that exist – or they did. Dark places."

"What did the traditional Sith tests entail?" Poe has to ask.

"I haven't been able to find much that mentions them," Rey answers. "The Empire seems to have destroyed Sith writings with the same fervour that they destroyed the Jedi texts. But I do know that the tests were predominantly very physical, requiring demonstration of multiple Force-powers. And… they often culminated in a fight to the death, between pairs of initiates."

"Which makes sense," Kylo says. "Especially considering that later Sith implemented the Rule of Two. Have I mentioned that to you, before?" He looks back and forth for recognition. 

Rey shakes her head. "No. But there were mentions of it in some of the few surviving Jedi texts. It's how the Sith eventually organised themselves. Just two of them. One Master, one apprentice."

"That's because of the amount of in-fighting, but it did have the unfortunate side-effect…" 

Finn lifts a hand. "Wait. I got this… Only way up is dead man's boots?"

"Quite. Darth Vader wanted to take my uncle on as his apprentice, and he would have murdered the Emperor in that case. The Emperor seemed to favour testing his potential underlings by setting them on one another." 

"That's… so dumb I don't even know what to say. No offence, Kylo."

"None taken. We are, after all, _all Sith here_." Not letting that go.

"And it isn't how it always worked," Poe points out. "In Revan's time, there were clearly a great many more of them… hence this place. Which, helpfully, does not require to you murder your co-initiates or your masters to progress."

Which is good. Because otherwise… problems.

Kylo nods. "Plus, we get to set our own rules. 'Don't murder one another' is probably rule one… what do you say, _Darth_ Rey?" Definitely still getting a kick out of this. 

"It's a good rule," Rey agrees, smiling again. "We should keep that one."

"Yeah, the murdering seems to have been a big problem," Poe adds. "On both sides."

"Anything else? I mean… I don't want to go down the Jedi doctrinal attempts to squeeze the life out of everything, but also I don't want to descend into anarchy. Do you think we start simple and add rules as and when we need to?" He's obviously been considering this for some time. 

"You mean, like, for when you get students?" Finn asks.

Kylo nods. "Which we'll need to, eventually. And to be honest, I am leaning towards upholding the law, and then the rest just… follows? Like… normal people?" 

"That works for me," Rey agrees. "We're creating something new, so we should let it happen, and then when we face problems, we work out how to solve them, and what we learn from it."

"It makes sense," Poe says, with a nod. "And if over-prescriptiveness almost killed both the Jedi _and_ the Sith, that's two more good reasons to avoid it."

"Plus, things are – ah – more flexible. Each circumstance, each situation, is more complicated and nuanced than I believe we could ever accurately judge on. I'd rather judge on intent and teach people to judge better in future, than reprimand based on a miscalculation." Kylo shrugs. "It's going to be difficult to start off with, but we'll get there." 

"Yeah, there's a difference between malice and… making a mistake. And if we're keeping to the Republic's laws, there's a fairness that can't be argued with." Finn rolls his neck. "I think your idea works."

"I do too," Poe says. "And if we believe in it… that's what will matter the most."

It's strange to think that one day this moment might be seen as a formative point in the history of the Knights of Eigengrau. But… Poe knows it might well. They'll remember it, they'll speak of it, and the story will live on.

An order, built on something new, and on something old.

Something both.

***

As his Upsilon-class shuttle descends through the clouds of the planet Vikenza, General Hux sighs and turns from the window, deciding that, if he's going to do this, he'd better just get it over with.

He turns to Lieutenant Mitaka, seated at his side. "All right. Give me the shortlist of names."

"…are you sure you want to know what the popular vote suggested? I could narrow it down to only the officer ranks…" The Lieutenant squirms visibly, avoiding his superior's eyes.

Hux sighs again, more heavily this time. He does not want to know what the 'popular' vote suggested. He does not _care_. And, quite frankly, why he consented to that particular exercise, he cannot fathom. It must have been a worse day than usual.

"Just tell me, Lieutenant," he answers, shortly; mentally bracing himself for the response.

"Well, uh… some of the more sensible ones include… Uhm. _Re-Decimator_. And. _Shootinator_. And… uh… some squadrons seem to have banded together to make a thing of… _Shippy McShipperface_. I don't even know where that one came from, uh…" 

Hux goes deathly silent and counts to ten inside his head. Twice.

"…No," he says, flatly, once he's regained the power of speech. If he wasn't trying to conserve resources, he'd seriously consider having the whole group of them shot. Today. In public. "Absolutely not. Give me the _useable_ shortlist."

"Well…" Mitaka flicks through things on his tablet. "We've got some more sensible ones. Like… _Vanquisher_?" 

"Lieutenant, that was the name of Count Dooku's ship. I would prefer not to draw any comparisons with _him_."

" _Imperator_?"

"Too over-used."

" _Vindicator_?"

"Too _Rebel_." That particular word, Hux says like it's a curse. "Do you have _anything_ I can actually work with?"

"I, uh… had an idea myself, but I don't know if you'd like it, and I didn't test it out on the troops, but…" 

This alone probably makes it a better idea. "Well, then, out with it," Hux says, impatiently.

"The _Successor_?"

Hux is pretty much expecting something else ridiculous and unusable, so when Mitaka comes out with that instead, he just stops and considers it for a moment. It doesn't follow the traditional vein of ship-naming, and yet… it has an aptness to it, in more than one way, and he can't recall another ship of that name.

He nods, just subtly. "Yes. Yes, that will work."

Mitaka tries not to be obvious in his relief, or satisfaction, but the little exhale is telling. "I'll get right to work on that, then, Sir." 

"Good. I want that ship ready to launch as soon as possible. We need to show the Republic and those Resistance _dogs_ what they're up against…"

But it's more than that. The Resistance destroyed the Starkiller and the _Decimator_ , and for those sleights alone, they have to pay, and pay _dearly_. That, after all, is why he is here, descending to the surface of Vikenza, to set in motion the wheels of a plan that will change the face of the galaxy.

Hux glances at Mitaka again. "Senator Abell is expecting me. I will be meeting with him in private. What we have to discuss is… pivotal. You will be briefed on the necessary elements once our agreement is finalised."

"Yes, Sir. Can I prepare anything for you, or would you like me to review the physical and anti-surveillance protocols in the room before you enter?" 

"The usual," Hux answers. "But it is vital we not be overheard. Not given the content of our meeting."

And this is quite an understatement. And _that_ thought… is almost soothing.

As much as anything is, these days.

***

Once the shuttle has landed, and the necessary security checks are done, Hux is shown into a particularly grand room within the Vikenzan senator's private residence. This meeting could never have taken place at any of the public buildings, after all. Not given its content.

He waits until the door has closed behind him before he speaks.

"Senator."

"General." Abell stays seated where he is, all prim lines and self-importance like a cloud around his overly-fine clothes. "Please… join me." 

Reuben Abell is a Human male of at least five decades, his frame thick and made thicker still by years of buffets and 'courtesy' dining. Fading hair is scraped back from his temples, and slightly watery eyes peer out with a slight squint. The room is rather tastelessly covered in holo-portraits of him and what looks like a trophy wife, and he waits for Hux to take his seat. 

Hux does not like politicians. Not in the slightest. Politicians are indecisive, easily-swayed, and far too obsessed with themselves and their own interests. However, if you find the right one, and give them the right motivation, they can be highly useful tools, and Hux is confident in the choice he has made in this one.

He moves in to take a seat, settling in it without relaxing his posture completely. "Thank you, Senator. I'm grateful to you for seeing me in person. Obviously this is not a discussion that either of us wishes to be overheard."

"Of course not. Your subordinate reassured himself of my own arrangements, and I appreciate your consent to my own security team's search. This is… a private affair. And not one of political importance, so I'm bound by no Republic restrictions and legislation. One… interested party to another." Abell's smile is positively feral, and he leans back in his seat.

"Things have become more strained since last we spoke." 

"Indeed," Hux concurs. "I believe we need to move quickly, given the effects on both of our interests in this matter." Ordinarily, he would have little care for the Senator's interests, but in this case they do align with his own, giving further motivation. "I want to act within the next seventy-two hours. Sooner, if possible."

His need is not born out of impatience. It is tactical. That it helps in other areas is not relevant.

"I agree. Timing is of the utmost importance. It's best we capitalise on the – ah – public sentiment. Before we lose whatever impetus we might have gained." Abell nods sagely, as if what he's said somehow is important and adds to the discussion.

Hux takes a small data tablet from the inner pocket of his jacket, sliding it across the table towards the Senator.

"This is what we need you to say. Is it acceptable?"

Myopic eyes scour the text, speed-reading, taking in salient points and key phrases. "It's a little more emotive than my usual staff have drafted, but considering the circumstances, I can make it work." 

The General does not see fit to mention that he himself composed the statement in question, nor that the first draft was significantly _more_ emotive. If you want to appeal to something so superfluous as people's feelings, you first have to make them _feel_.

It is not something he enjoys. But it will be effective all the same.

"Good," Hux says. "I will contact you when the team is ready to move in. It will be a small unit, carrying no insignia. If they are caught, we will of course deny all knowledge and leave you to do as you see fit. But they will not be caught."

"Right. And the – ah – area of… focus?" Abell clearly can't actually bring himself to be more direct about the nature of the 'focus'. "It's one of those I highlighted as… integral?" 

"Absolutely. You will reap the benefits you require, just as we will. Once the initial move is made, you can continue to capitalise on the outcome however you see fit."

It makes no difference to Hux. So long as he gets what he wants out of this, the rest is immaterial.

"Wonderful. And after this… we won't need to speak to one another for a while, unless you have some longer-term goal in mind?" The Senator is needling for further details, even with the airy tone. 

"There may be future potential for alliance between us," Hux replies. Not because he's letting slip that there _is_ a longer-term goal – because of course there is – but because he wants to keep the other man on the hook. After all, if this goes according to plan, Abell could be of further use. "But we will need to maintain radio silence in the immediate aftermath, yes. For obvious reasons."

"Very well. And when we do need to communicate… will we need entirely new protocols?" The Senator's fingers drum on his desk, arrhythmic and insistent. 

"Most likely," Hux replies. "Our channels are secured but it would be wise not to linger on the same one. As a precaution."

You never can tell with the Resistance. Always poking about where they don't belong.

"All right. Well. You'll know where to find me, if you need me. And I'm assuming it will be relatively easy to contact you if I need to?" Because Abell is obviously not about to do this without some form of safety net, no matter how skimpy. 

The faintest smile crosses Hux's lips. "Of course. We don't forget our allies, Senator."

So long as they are still useful. And loyal. Mustn't forget that.

"Then I think we're settled, here. Unless you have any other requests?" Abell cocks his head, waiting to see what the soldier has to say. 

"Not for now, Senator," Hux replies, smoothly. "Not for now."


	5. Hyperspace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Wednesday, people, and you know what that means!
> 
> ...Smut! ;-)

Leaving Eigengrau is a much more pleasant experience the second time around, Poe thinks, as the two shuttles lift off from the surface to begin their trip back to the Resistance base on Tahanan. Beneath them, the surface blurs to infinite green, the ancient temple shrinking into the distance.

Poe watches as it does, not moving his eyes elsewhere until he has to. Some part of him will always be here, and he knows it, and leaving still feels… odd.

But necessity overtakes, and before long the two shuttles are breaking orbit, hurtling into hyperspace. Poe watches as Rey and Finn's ship goes first, and then races after them, stars streaking to white as they go.

Then he clicks the autopilot on, knowing he won't need to do anything until it's time to drop out of hyperspace again, and sits back.

"That went well."

"It did. Although I think they got off far too lightly. Neither of them had a trauma on landing, and they even had food and drink and the Sith Code from the start." Kylo hums, and taps his fingers to his lips. "Next time we should just drop people from orbit."

Not that he actually means that. 

"It would be more authentic," Poe replies, although he doesn't mean it either. "I wonder how Revan meant for people to get there…"

Given the Force-sensitive detection grid, the likelihood is that 'dropping them from orbit' _would_ be the answer in the Sith of Old's case.

"So… what did you think of our honeymoon, anyway?" Kylo's teeth glint briefly between his lips in a slightly-feral smile. "Because I think we need lots of recruits. For… reasons." 

Poe looks over at him and grins back. "It was very… us," he says. "Brought back lots of _memories_. And I definitely agree on the recruits. We need more of those. So we can come back and reminisce some more…"

"Have you finished with your piloty things?" Kylo nods at the console, head tilted, and not at all innocent in expression. 

This gets him what is supposed to be a flat look. Supposed to be. It is hard to pull off a flat look when Kylo has _that_ edge to his tone. "We're in hyperspace now, yes," he says, as if this _wasn't_ obvious from the view out of the front window. "I won't need to do anything else until we come up on Tahanan. Which… will be a while…"

"Which button is the comm button?" Butter would not melt in Kylo Organa-Solo's mouth. Poe Dameron, on the other hand… 

Poe smiles. "I don't have to tell you that. I'm keeping it a surprise."

"If you don't tell me, then I'm leaving the cockpit," Kylo replies. "And possibly torturing the information out of you, all the same." 

"…And which way is that supposed to motivate me?" Poe has to ask, knowing full-well that he's asking for it now. "Acquiescence or… not?"

A fling of Kylo's fingers, and Poe's chair swivels around, away from the console, and he uses the Force to lay him out flat on the decking plate. "It doesn't really matter. I don't need you to acquiesce, I can always **make** you do what I want." 

Screaming 'Fuck, yes!' at this point would be somewhat counter to the mood. Poe knows it, and it's why he doesn't do it. But he'd mean it if he did. Very, very much.

Instead, he gives a shocked gasp (also very genuine) and decides to moderate his tone. A little. "So I've noticed. And what _do_ you want?"

Because it isn't a tour of the ins and outs of the cockpit controls, that's for sure.

"What I want is for you to remember who is the Master, here," Kylo says, and he rises from his own chair. Rises, and goes to grab Poe by the hair. He tugs hard, meaning Poe can either follow where he leads or be summarily scalped of hair. Not that he can do much but waddle on all fours or on his knees, as Kylo drags him towards the back room, the wider one. 

Poe happens to like being put in his place. This is not because he's unhappy with it or trying to change it – not in the _slightest_ – but because he enjoys the reminder. Enjoys the demonstration of the other man's power, both literal and emotional.

Enjoys being _worth_ the effort.

He goes where he's pulled, trying to keep up. Smart enough not to fight this part.

"How could I forget?" he says. Which is perhaps _less_ smart.

"Apparently you just did," Kylo snarks, as he drags him all the way into the room and then throws him back down. "Because I distinctly recall you refusing my request for information. So… do you think that I should punish you? I'm leaning to 'yes'."

That makes Poe just a little worried. The fun kind of worried, but worried all the same. "I… did do that," he concedes, more carefully. "So… maybe you should, Master."

"I think I most certainly should. Before you get ideas above your station." Kylo stalks around him, boot heels clipping on the metal. "And I think you're down to your last uniform, aren't you?"

Because Kylo keeps shredding them.

"So if I destroy this, you'll have to walk off the ship in shame." 

"That would be problematic, Master," Poe manages. "Please… tell me how I can make it up to you."

Hoping he hasn't pushed this too far.

"You can start by crawling back to the cockpit. And using the intercomm button to tell the others you're going to catch some shut-eye, and they're not to disturb us." Which will also show which button is the right one, and they will most assuredly see through the very faint excuse. 

There really is no way the others will believe this. But that isn't the point, and Poe knows it. "Yes, Master," he answers, keeping his eyes down. "As you wish."

And he does as he's told, crawling briskly back into the cockpit – assuming Kylo will follow him – and over to the controls, staying on his knees whilst he hits the button to open the channel.

The fact that the button is _labelled_ , he doesn't even mention.

"Black Two, you copy?"

"I'm here," comes Rey's answer, after a perhaps-telling pause. "Everything OK?"

"Everything is just fine. We've got a long flight back to Tahanan and I'm still on Eigengrau time, so I'm gonna turn in for a while."

He sounds almost convincing. Almost. Luckily, he is not the only one trying to do so.

"Right. Us too, I think," Rey replies. "So… radio silence, unless we have any problems?"

"Yes."

"Yes. Good. Enjoy the… sleeping."

"You too, Rey," Poe says, and means it. In the same way she does. "You too."

He clicks the comm off again and sits back on his heels, staying where he is.

"And what do you think they think you're about to do?" Kylo asks, a little sneer in his voice. "Do you really think she expects you to be sleeping off the timezone difference? Or do you think she suspects otherwise?" 

"I know she suspects otherwise," Poe answers, though with no snark in his tone, not now. Just an honest answer.

"What do you think they'd think of you, if they knew you had to be punished for misbehaving?" Kylo walks over, hand in his hair, keeping his head in place for eye-contact. "Do you think they'd be ashamed of you?" 

They'd probably be more alarmed about hearing the finer details of his sex life, Poe thinks, but he's more than sensible enough not to say this part out loud. "I don't know," he answers, instead – because he doesn't – and then adds, "…I hope they'd realise I didn't mean anything by it."

Possibly he is not talking about the other two anymore.

"How do you even punish a masochist..?" Kylo muses, a dark glint in his eyes. "Probably by restraining him and leaving him alone. Right? That would do it. Tie you up, then make you sit in a corner by yourself. Maybe make you listen to me pleasuring myself… would that remind you of how you should obey me?" 

"That would do it, Master," Poe just about manages, not daring to meet the other man's eyes. Scared that he'll do what he's threatening. Scared that maybe he deserves it.

"Strip yourself. And we'll see if we can fix this. If you want to, hard enough, then we can make this right again." There's love in Kylo's tone, and he gently pushes fingers through Poe's hair. "I'll punish you, and you'll know I forgive you." 

Poe nods, and does as he's told. The shirt is easy enough, but the lower half is trickier, and he doesn't quite dare ask if he can stand up. So he makes it work as best he can, perhaps a little less gracefully, but he is at least lithe enough to manage it without too much difficulty. The boots, it turns out, are the hardest part.

When he's done, and pushed the pile of clothes to the side, he stays where he is, on his knees, putting his hands behind his back. Waiting.

Kylo sits on one of the joists, feet flat on the floor, and he crooks a finger for Poe to come closer. When he's close enough, he grabs his hair again and slams Poe face-first, bent over his lap. His torso lies across Kylo's legs, and his ass sticks up in the air, ready for attention.

"Now. Are you going to be a good Apprentice and beg me nicely?" 

Poe flushes a little at that, closing his eyes once he's down. "Yes, Master. I'm sorry. Please punish me. Please… remind me of my place."

"Your place is by my side," Kylo chides, gently. "But you should still remember I am your Master." He puts one hand on the back of Poe's neck, holding him still, but lets his thumb caress his jawline in a soft, loving way. "I'm going to do this, and it's going to hurt, and then I'm going to make you please me. And if you please me enough, I'll let you come, too."

A hand lifted, and he brings it down hard on Poe's ass, the smack resounding through the small, enclosed room. 

It hurts. It hurts more for the sense of having deserved it, but it hurts in its own right all the same. Poe bites his lip and tries not to cry out, coasting the pain, feeling it coil deep down inside into that place that turns it into pleasure. Because it _does_ feel good. Of course it does. He's just not sure if it should.

"Yes, Master," he whispers, again. "Anything."

"I do this because I love you," Kylo says, as he smacks him a second time. Perhaps once he would have cringed to say that, but now he knows it's true. Knows it's only love that makes him act like this, and only because Poe wants – _needs_ – this to happen, every once in a while. He slaps him harder, leaving his hand in place as he does, curling his fingers into a soft hold after each thud. "I do this because you're _mine_." 

"Yours," Poe whispers in echoing reply. "All yours."

And he does need it; need the pain, need to be overwhelmed by the other man's will. Partly it is a simple love of the feelings it provokes in him, the awareness of that soul-deep need Kylo wakes up deep inside, the need he can't – and wouldn't – deny. But it's more than that. Sometimes he _needs_ to be overwhelmed, to lose himself. To… _prove_ himself. To know that he can, and will, take it all.

"Tell me how you love me," Kylo orders, his voice level, not breaking even as he starts to spank Poe in earnest. He varies which cheek his hand comes down on, the speed and intensity alternating so he can never prepare for where, when – or how hard – the next blow will land. "Tell me how." 

"I love you," Poe gasps out. Wanting and needing pain doesn't always overrule the shock when it actually hits, and it takes him a moment to be able to think again, albeit hazily. "You know I love you. Know I'd do anything for you. You know… if you told me never to mouth off again, I'd do as you said. Because I love you. Because I'm _yours_."

He chokes back a little cry as a particularly harsh blow hits, a tremor of need running through him, pressing his eyes shut as he tries to coast it out without full-on screaming.

Kylo smiles widely, feeling the radiating waves from his lover, basking in how he's making him feel. "Good. Good. I forgive you… now I'm just going to hurt you because you like it, not because you were bad. Do you understand?"

Because he can't actually stay annoyed for long, and even the 'annoyance' was a barest half-trickle of 'I would prefer you answer me', and nothing more. He strokes a hand firmly up and over his spine, then back down to grasp firmly at his ass. "I love you. I would never ask you to change who you were, for me." 

"I understand," Poe answers. "And… I would do anything for you. _Anything_."

'Anything' is a strong word in the context of any relationship, and doubly-so when literal life and death could be on the line. But it's not so simple as that. 'Anything' is not a fanatical declaration. It is an act of trust. It means 'Anything you want, I want'.

But sometimes the lines blur. And sometimes… Poe wonders how _far_ they could blur, if Kylo chose to push.

"I know you would." Kylo does. He's seen deep inside of Poe, and he knows him, knows him better than he even knows himself. Another slap, and this one finishes with a thorough grab of his ass, fingers digging in, and then his hand goes lower: curling a finger through his cheeks, teasing at his still-raw hole. He's lost count of how many times they've indulged since they got to Eigengrau, but it's as if the planet _knows_ something.

"Get on your knees. On the floor. Show me what that mouth of yours can do, and maybe I'll let you swallow." 

"Yes, Master," Poe answers at once, already moving as he speaks, sliding quickly (a little pained, though trying not to let it show) down onto his knees. Moving between Kylo's legs, hands running up the tops of his thighs, he starts to unfasten the front of his pants. He works his lover's clothing aside, enough to let his cock spring free, and then presses in to wrap his lips around it, sinking down to the root all at once.

Sometimes these things need to be done slowly. And sometimes… slow is the _last_ thing they need to be. Poe works quickly, not because he's rushing – he isn't – but because every last movement is so very full of meaning, of a different – but no less intense – kind of need. He drags his lips along the length of Kylo's cock, tongue swirling around the head before he pushes back down, making a low, breathy sound of pleasure as he does.

A hiss, and Kylo watches Poe's face vanish between his thighs. He's so gorgeous, and he makes Kylo's blood burn blazingly hot. Fingers tangle in Poe's hair, holding him down, keeping him in place and making sure he remembers who is really in control, here.

It takes some fine focus, but when he can sense Poe about to struggle, he pulls him off, all the way off, saliva beading a chain between them. "Make it good, or I'll just show you what you should be doing for me, Poe." 

"Yes, Master," Poe manages, with what breath he still has. "I will try harder."

Which is difficult when you've _started_ by going nigh-on all-out, but what is life without challenge? Poe sinks down over Kylo's cock again, holding the position and swallowing around it, for as long as he dares before the world starts to go hazy and he has to pull back to gasp in a lungful of oxygen. But he doesn't linger, going right down again, and again, and _again_ , trying to make it as good as he knows how.

Kylo's hand curls around the front of Poe's throat, feeling it work around him, feeling it massage and swallow and gulp. He presses down over the front, enough to make him dizzy, and then sends a lightning-fast pulse of heat through him, head to toe. "Do you like that? Do you like feeling me take away your air? Or do you just wish I'd fuck you, instead?" 

" _Both_ ," is the pilot's answer, rough and wrecked. "I like being _yours_. I **need** to be yours." He raises his eyes at that – the first time he's looked up – so that Kylo can see the sincerity in them. And yes, the other man will be able to feel it through the Force, but there's something to be said for the physical element.

"I can do both." And he can. A sudden pressure between Poe's legs, an intrusion made of air pushed into place, of the Force manipulating the world for the Sith's benefit. He presses in like fingers spreading him wider, and looks smugly down at him. "Like that?" 

"Fuck…" Poe gasps, vision going hazy again. " _Please, **yes**_."

It is still the strangest sensation he's experienced. And easily one of the best. He arches forward a little, as if trying to give the other man more access, even though he doesn't have to, given that he's doing it with the Force. It's an instinctive action, and tellingly needy.

"Mouth," Kylo reminds him. "I thought you wanted **both**." He grabs Poe's hair, shoving his face back into his crotch, a little growl in his throat as he presses harder into him, physically. "Don't make me ask you a second time." 

Poe presses back in at once and goes to work even harder than before. Trying to keep his focus on what he's doing, despite the fact it is hard to concentrate when Kylo is doing _that_ to him through the Force. He still whimpers a little in need, but doesn't let it slow his pace, keeping that rapid up-down over his lover's cock, hungry for it. The only pause comes when he changes focus to mouth over Kylo's balls, rolling them with his tongue, lapping roughly over tender skin. But he doesn't dare do it for long, and returns to his cock once more, determined to get him off.

Kylo beams, and scratches his hands over Poe's shoulders, letting him control the pace for the moment, allowing a low note of pleasure to pour out from his throat. He loves the soft, warm feel of his tongue and lips, loves knowing how close they are… and to reward his efforts, he pushes in harder, still. Harder, and then (with all the focus he has) he starts to move that sensation, to start fucking him open and full. 

"Maybe I should record you, sometime. Use just the Force to splay you open, and let you watch the holo of how you look, spread wide and open and with nothing but my mind inside of you… would you like that, pilot? Would you like to see yourself fucking the air?" 

Not daring to stop again to answer, Poe makes an affirmative sound around Kylo's cock and nods. He'd probably lose his mind all over again, but he _likes_ losing his mind, so the point is moot. Or comprehensively proven. Or something.

He doesn't slow his pace, despite the fact that the lack of oxygen is doing strange things to the inside of his head, trying to coast the feelings when they hit. Hoping he can get a result before he blacks out, because he's sure those are the only two ways this ends, and he knows which he would prefer.

Kylo grabs hold of Poe's hair, and drags him up and off his cock, bending to smash his mouth over Poe's. A growl, and he bites down on his lip, fucking over his tongue when he opens wider, an image of what he must look like thrown deep into his head.

And then Kylo stops the kiss, and snarls: "Climb on my dick right this instant, and ride it like you're never seeing another sunrise, ride it like there's nothing else in the galaxy, and then I'll fucking take you **harder** than that." 

Poe tries to say, "Yes, Master," but he can't get a sound out. His lips form the shapes of the words, but that's it, and he doesn't have the chance for a second attempt because he's moving too fast, climbing up onto Kylo's lap – straddling his hips wide – and reaching back to find his cock. He guides it into place and sinks down over it all at once, and _that's_ when he finds his voice, crying out as gravity does the rest.

His hands go to Kylo's shoulders – for leverage, as well as balance – and then Poe starts riding him with all the energy he's got left; riding him and riding him, sinking down all the way every time, just as he did earlier with his lips.

" _Yours_ ," he gasps, rough, broken and heartfelt. "Yours."

" **Mine** ," Kylo agrees, hands on his hips, feeling the way his lover bounces furiously fast on his lap. He turns his head, grabbing the front of his throat in his teeth and sinks them in with all the strength he has, sucking fiercely and slamming his own lust through Poe's head, so he can feel how aroused he is, how proud and in love. 

This mad, wild thing, all caught and _his_. He pours out all his affection and lust, and then his hands hold tighter. Tighter, and he uses his upper body strength to make light work of his husband. He slams him down and down onto his dick, a mental command for Poe to touch himself, and he tilts Poe so every slam down hits that place inside that he knows will tip him so far over the edge that he won't even remember what it was like not to be in free-fall. 

" _Please_ ," Poe begs, suddenly desperate, suddenly a thousand more times out of his mind. "I need… I need… _pleaseletmecome_ …" One hand on his own cock, the other keeping him braced so he can keep riding Kylo's with energy he didn't even think he had left. "Master… Master… _**please**_."

A thrill of terror runs through him; an awareness that this was supposed to be _punishment_. That Kylo might not let him come at all. It makes the pleading look in his eyes all the more intense.

"Tell me you love me," Kylo insists, because he loves to hear it. "Promise me everything. Tell me one more time, and I'll let you." Not because he doesn't believe it, but because hearing the words in such a broken tone of voice, with such desperate need, with the fine line of control over the very last thing – his pleasure – just goes straight to Kylo's head. 

He wouldn't refuse him. Couldn't refuse him. **Won't** refuse him. But he will make him fight for it, all the way to the finish line. It makes the winning all the sweeter, like that. "Tell me, beg me, promise me. One last time, and I'll slam you so hard you will feel it when you sit for _weeks_." 

Poe bites his lip, mind on the edge and breaking from the need. "I love you," he says, wrecked and heartfelt in equal measure. "I love you more than anything, more than everything. More than _flying_."

He drops his head, the hand on his own cock now a chokehold, but still riding his lover with what little remaining energy he can muster. "Please," he whispers, desperate and pleading. " _Please_."

Kylo smiles – wide and radiant – and he makes good on his promise. He keeps slamming Poe down onto his shaft with all his strength, keeps hitting that place inside, and then he bears into his mind without any restraint. It's borderline painful, though he knows the pain is so far from unpleasant to Poe, right now. As hard as stealing a memory, as fierce as declaring his own love, as bright as taking back his lover's mind and body from a thief with no right to touch him. " _Come for me_ ," he says, but doesn't need to, because the command goes into Poe's body as the words fall from his lips and mind. He knows Poe can't hold back when he flips the switch inside, knows he has no choice but to obey. 

And he does. Completion hits like a hot wave; one that Poe crests for a blissful, agonising moment before he tumbles beneath the surface, coming so hard that it _does_ hurt… as much as 'hurt' has any meaning right now, given that everything is just _sensation_ , and all of it glorious, wonderful, perfect. He screams as his release hits, trying to give voice to his gratitude, but most of it isn't coherent at all. Just happy, and grateful, and broken, and right.

The pilot all but drops forwards when the waves subside, trying not to fall _into_ Kylo and somehow – sort of – managing it, catching himself so their faces are mere inches apart, his breath hot and ragged against his lover's.

Kylo makes sure Poe's climax is wracking through him before he allows himself the same privilege. He always loves when they manage to time it to come together, and he loves the feel of Poe's body tensing around him, too. It feels so damn incredible to control him like that, to own him, to have the last word over even his body's responses… and to know Poe trusts him with that.

It sets a slow, spreading warmth through him all over again, and he grabs Poe's face between both hands, pressing their foreheads together, gazing lovingly over. "I fucking love you, Poe Dameron. I do. I fucking love you." 

"… _love you too_ …" Poe manages, utterly out of his head and staring at Kylo with hazy, distant eyes. He wants to say more, but the words won't form – or, they won't form outside his mind, at least – so he just keeps staring, wide and adoring and the very best kind of lost.

"Just stay with me. We've got plenty of time. Just stay right here with me, and know I've got you," Kylo tells him, an arm around his waist, the other still cupping his face. "Stay right here. When we get closer, you can come back to yourself. But for now, you can stay right where you are." 

Poe wants to stay right where he is, both physically and mentally. Physically, there is little more wonderful than being in Kylo's arms, his lover still deep inside him, feeling warm breath across his face and knowing how wanted he is. And mentally… adrift in that distant, wonderful place, safe and sure and completely at peace… what could be better?

He nods, perhaps a little more than he needs to. "Yes, Master," he whispers. " _Yes_."

Kylo holds his face still, so he can kiss him. He doesn't want to disturb the equilibrium, so he kisses the very corner of his lips, and flickers his tongue slightly out before he kisses to the edge of his jawline. Teeth sink in, softly, and he suckles a faint pink mark with the quietest of grumbles in his chest. 

"Ohhh…" Poe murmurs, happily, holding on just a little tighter so he can arch back to offer Kylo better access. "…Yes… yes…"

He really would do anything the other man says right now, and it shows.

The Sith smirks, and lifts to lick it wetly better. "You're such a slut for me, pilot. I love it. I could fuck you with my sabre hilt and you'd beg for more, wouldn't you?"

Not that he would do that. For one, they aren't sanitary, or really shaped ergonomically. And it is definitely not safe. 

"I'd do anything you ask, Master," Poe says, hazily but obviously sincere. "Anything for you. I am yours."

His eyes flicker at the mental image, and it's obvious that – safety concerns aside – he's still turned on by the idea. He rests his head against Kylo's, a man possessed, and completely drunk on his lover.

The hand on his waist goes to stroke around the place they're joined, teasing the stretched and hungry skin, chasing the tremors he gets in response. "You think, when you come up enough, you could give me a flying lesson with me still inside of you?" 

Poe smiles. "I can try. Might be a little… unorthodox… but I can try."

He probably should not attempt to pilot anything complicated in this state. But the basics of a simple shuttlecraft… surely it's possible? If nothing else, it will be fun to find out. And most likely fun to do. And… wow, but everything still feels _so very good_.

"You think you're ready now, if I carry you through?" Kylo's hands move to his waist, grinding him gently against his lap, eyes amused. He isn't going to focus very well, not at all. But who cares? He doesn't. 

This makes Poe give him a faux-serious look. "Sure I can. I can fly anything, remember? Even like this…"

He sounds very convincing, for a man still _that_ out of his own head. "I'll start with the easy bits. No proton torpedoes. Not 'til lesson two…"

The fact that this kind of shuttle most assuredly does not _have_ proton torpedoes is irrelevant. And vaguely amusing.

"Hold on," he says, and grips him tighter. "Ready?" When Poe's arms and legs tighten, Kylo stands slowly. Slowly, and he walks him back to the cockpit, sinking into the pilot's chair with Poe still around him, a lazy rock of his hips to seat him better. 

"…Tricky to see like this," Poe points out, but he sounds like he'll enjoy the challenge all the same. "OK… so… we're at hyperspace right now so most of the controls are locked out… The large slider on the right punches the hyperdrive, and pulls us out when you push it the other way… but don't do that right now or we might appear in the middle of an asteroid field. Or a star. Which… would be bad."

"What would I actually have to do if I wanted to stop properly, right now?" Kylo keeps his fingers moving, tracing patterns over Poe's side and ass, nose in his hair and then peering down to the buttons being pointed out to him. 

"Have a deathwish," is Poe's immediate answer. "But if you really needed to… you check the hyperdrive readouts on the panel beneath the main controls. It tells you where you're going and where you are, but 'where you are' is a difficult thing to pin down because it changes so damn fast. You _could_ just risk dropping out of hyperspace when you think you're somewhere safe, or you can program in a course-correction and get the computer to find the nearest safe spot. That would be your best bet. It isn't one hundred percent, but it's less likely to result in instant obliteration."

"Let's not do that, then," Kylo says. "As I have no desire to end up smush. Okay… so say we got there, what next?" 

Poe laughs just a little. "Yeah. That would be bad. Pieces of you in multiple systems. Very messy." His eyes are still hazy, and he looks like he's completely out of it. And enjoying himself immensely. "If we got there and did not explode, then the crucial controls are… uh…"

This is difficult when he's facing the wrong way. He manages to sort of half-turn, which – given that the two of them are still coupled – is all kinds of lovely. And distracting. He bites his lip for a second, trying to pull his focus around too. "…Here and here." He points, as best he can. "This one controls your x-axis, and this one your y-axis. Left, right, up, down. And then…" twisting a little further, to indicate further controls, "…your thrust. Feels different in space to when you're in atmosphere. More fun in atmosphere…"

Even though several members of his squadron would disagree.

Kylo loops his arms around Poe's waist, holding him in this new position, pulling him back into his lap with an idle thrust of his own. "How do you manage to keep all of the readouts level and land at the same time?"

Because that was always the problem for him. He couldn't process so many different angles of information at the same time. 

"It varies from ship to ship," Poe answers. "Some are much easier than others. But I find… there's a kind of sweet spot where you can hold the balance of the ship in perfect equilibrium. Once you learn to locate it, it's much smoother from there on in. The more technical answer is that you use this readout here…" twist, turn, bite lip and try not to _whimper_ "…to control your pitch and yaw. If you get yourself balanced before you lose too much altitude, it's easier to hold it level."

He looks at Kylo, with a wry little smile. "Mostly it takes practice. And encouragement. You do it over and over until you get a feel for it. Like… fighting with a lightsabre. You have to let the ship become an extension of you."

"You do realise I broke the auto-pilot on the _Falcon_? Which shouldn't be possible, until you remember how that ship is held together… but yes. I didn't really… ah. Get the chance to relax when I tried last…" Kylo shrugs. 

"It's the – thinking on your feet thing. I can just about manage to keep it going in the right direction, but if someone asks me to do anything at the same time, it ends up going… wrong." 

"It's because it's still unfamiliar to you," Poe replies. "You know how to think on your feet. You do it all the time in different situations. You just need to try _this_ often enough so that it becomes easier too. And… forgive me, but… possibly you need a slightly calmer teacher than your last one."

Poe does not wish to speak ill of his father-in-law. He really doesn't. Han Solo is a phenomenal pilot. But… he is perhaps not the best _teacher_.

"He decided it was the one thing he could teach me, so no one else got to," Kylo says, mildly as he can. "Which… in retrospect… not the best of ideas. He is very good at what he does, but he does it from instinct, and he can't explain the thought behind it, and he'd get annoyed when I tried to read his mind to work out what the kriff he meant."

"You can read my mind any time you want," Poe points out, pressing in again. "Although… I will try to teach you properly all the same. You might not be one of life's starfighter pilots, but that doesn't mean you can't learn to handle a shuttlecraft, or a freighter, and… if not _enjoy_ it, then at least not hate it."

"I'd settle for 'can take off, punch hyperdrive, and sort of land without causing irreparable damage'. I don't need to be a fighter pilot, just… the bare bones will do for me…" Kylo slides his hands down to Poe's inner thighs, stroking there, pulling him tighter to his chest. "Maybe we don't land with me behind the helm to begin with. But I could go into your head while you do it…?" 

This gets him another bright smile. "You could certainly do that," Poe agrees. "I don't know quite how it feels for _you_ when you do, but… I guess you would probably be able to get a sense for what I'm doing."

Plus, I'll enjoy it. That too. Even if he is going to have to pull himself around sharply when they get back to Tahanan, or he'll be wandering about with an overly-obvious expression on his face.

"Sounds like a plan." Kylo kisses the side of his neck, trailing up to his ear. "And it will give me a really good insight. As well as mean we're as close as we can be, without me still buried deep inside of you, like this." 

"Yeah, I don't think it would be wise for me to _actually_ land the ship in this position…" Poe says, though that doesn't mean he wouldn't try if it came to it.

After all… he can fly _anything_.

***

They stay tangled together for a little while longer, and then – somewhat reluctantly – have to move in order to clean up and re-dress. And soon, Poe is back in the cockpit – Kylo in his head – bringing them out of hyperspace and over Tahanan, which glitters in the glow of its bright yellow sun.

Down they tumble, through the clouds, shuttle rocking slightly as they catch the atmosphere, dropping lower and lower with the second shuttle following closely in their wake. Soon, the green blur below resolves into continents, into land, into trees, with the blocky structures of the Resistance base nestled among them.

"Tahanan ground control, this is Black Leader, requesting landing clearance for two."

"Copy that, Black Leader. Lighting the pads up now. Welcome home."

They touch down on adjacent landing pads at the end of the central concourse. Poe quickly runs through the post-flight checks, and then cuts the power.

And smiles. He enjoyed Eigengrau, oh yes. But he missed this place too.

They head out of the ship, into the cool sunlight beyond. It's only mid-afternoon here, and the base is still full of activity. A few people look over, giving them a wave as they step out, right before one in particular comes pacing over, a grin on his face.

"Welcome back," says Snap Wexley, wrapping Poe in a hug before turning to clap Kylo on the shoulder. "How was the honeymoon?"

"It was an _important training mission_ ," Poe insists at once, trying to keep his face level.

Snap just looks at him for a moment until Poe cracks.

"…It was amazing," he admits.

"Glad to hear it," his best friend replies. "Hey, you two," he calls over, as Rey and Finn descend from their own shuttle. "So… sorry to throw you all right back in it, the moment you land, but… you have a visitor."

Kylo just smiles. Maybe once he'd feel really self-conscious with people talking even vaguely about his love-life, but he _did_ just have an amazing time, the flight home included. Now he no longer has to worry about Rey and Finn passing the trials, he can fully relax and reminisce.

Definitely need more trainee Knights. A lot more. "Who is the visitor?" Kylo asks.

Rey and Finn look a little less guilty as they join the other three. Even if Finn does keep hold of Rey's hand, stroking it with his thumb. "All of us?"

"All of you," Snap replies. "She asked for the four of you by name."

"She?" Poe repeats. "Seriously, Snap, who is it?"

"That's the thing," the other pilot says. "It's Maz Kanata."


	6. Eyes Open

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings once more, readers. We return with our next chapter, in which there is _lots_ of plot, and we start to lay out more of where this story is heading.
> 
> And in which our heroes have more than one unexpected visitor...

With news of their unexpected visitor raising a whole storm of questions, the four Knights of Eigengrau follow Snap down to the central command bunker. Inside, amidst the usual tech operators, they find Leia Organa, deep in conversation with Maz Kanata. The two women turn as they approach, and it is the taller who speaks first, smiling at them.

"Welcome home. I take it your journey was a success?"

"It was," Rey answers. "Finn and I passed the tests."

"I had every confidence that you would," Leia tells her, warmly.

"Yes, it was always going to happen," the short, darker woman says. Her wrists jangle when she turns, and she holds her hand up to Rey. "Congratulations, my dear. It was the first of many steps you will need to take, in order to keep your narrow path."

Kylo is further back in the group, steadfastly refusing to become involved in the conversation unless strictly necessary. 

It's a reaction that catches Poe's attention, and he glances over at Kylo, trying to work out why the other man seems suddenly reticent. Although… it's certainly strange, to be seeing Maz again. The last time they met…

…No. Do not think about the last time they met. _Stay here_.

Rey takes Maz's hand, still looking a little startled by her. "I know," she says, softly. "But I'm not alone anymore. I can do this."

"You are blossoming into the beautiful, powerful woman I knew you could be. You are strong, Rey. Very strong. You will do wonderful things." Maz smiles, then looks up at Finn. "And you, too, young man. You are no less important to this galaxy."

"Thank you, ma'am," Finn says, respectfully. 

"You… came to tell us something?" Kylo asks, his voice a little distant. 

Maz lets go of Rey's hand, then walks straight up to Kylo. She stands, expectantly, just in front of him. "Is this how you greet everyone who knew you when you were still my height, young Organa-Solo?"

Kylo winces. "It's been a long time, Maz."

"So it has. Your face tells me you've seen many of the things I thought you would." She adjusts her lenses, peering up at him. "But not everything."

"I've seen plenty," he replies, off-handedly. "But I think most of the galaxy knows that, by now."

"Not all of it, they don't." Maz folds her arms across her chest. "But if you want to keep things close to your chest… I understand. I expect you are tired of people outside of you telling you who you can, and cannot be."

Kylo smiles, just slightly. "Yes, but it turned out after I made my mind up, that people were ready to tell me who I chose to be was something foretold after all. Or… close enough."

Maz laughs. "Everything that could, or could not be, has been foreseen by someone. And many things that cannot, and could not be. The galaxy has very few true secrets left, and the Force has a sense of humour. But your Darkness is the shadow behind you, now. Attached to you, but the sun is on your face. You won't forget it, but you won't need to look into it unless you turn around. You're so much more than the boy I used to know. You're the man I hoped you could be, now."

A little nod, respectful, but still a touch reserved. "Thank you. But… this message you came to tell us?"

"Ah, yes." Maz nods. "Many people come to my watering hole. I hear many things. The Force sends me little whispers, and I listen. As you know, the Knights of Ren are still a force to be reckoned with. Without the influence of Snoke, or the control of your rule, they have become more fanatical still." 

Poe takes Kylo's hand, just subtly, at his side. Although Maz's words are not a surprise, hearing them spoken by someone with such… _foresight_ … is a little unsettling. It gives them more weight, makes them more real.

"We knew it was inevitable," the pilot answers. "Do you..?" A pause. He's certain Maz has something significant to tell them, but he's almost hesitant to ask. "Do you know what they're planning?"

"Not everything, but I heard through another who heard that they were going to a place of old Darkness. Old _Sith_. A place where the Sith – and not your kind – originated. Although perhaps your roots are there, but your branches shot off to the side… They are bound for Korriban." 

Kylo flinches. "The… Sith homeworld?" 

"Yes," Rey says, her voice suddenly heavy. "There are many uncharted places on that planet. Too many. Untold secrets no doubt lie hidden in the ruins. Maybe… things that were never meant to be found."

"It is those things I suspect the new Master of the Knights of Ren is looking for," Maz says, her voice serious. "And that is why you need to go there, all of you."

"…Danika? It's her, isn't it?" Kylo knows, without having to ask.

"She is in control, yes."

A slow, slow breath out. "We have to stop whatever she's planning. You don't know what she was looking for, do you?"

"No. She may not even know herself. I sense… a great and terrible power. Potential, more than anything. A darkness that is older than I am. Older, perhaps, than even the Sith themselves." 

"Whatever it is, we have to find out," Poe says, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice. Trying not to be horrified at the prospect of some ancient and dangerous source of power, rooted deep in the Dark Side. "We have to find out, and we have to stop the Knights of Ren getting hold of it."

And… before it can corrupt them beyond all hope of rescue.

"You need to set out at once," Maz tells them. "Something as important as this needs your attention. I came as soon as I found out."

"We'll need a ship. And…" Kylo looks to Poe and back. "Weapons. Lots of weapons. In case we run into any of the Knights, or the Order, when we're there."

"Take the _Phoenix_ ," Leia replies at once. The _Phoenix_ – the Upsilon-class shuttle that once belonged to Snoke, which carried Kylo, Rey and BB-8 home from the _Decimator_ – has been re-purposed by the Resistance, though it hasn't been used since the Battle of Zekkan. "As soon as Maz told me why she was here, I arranged to have it stocked and prepared accordingly. It's ready on the landing pad."

"Thank you," Poe tells her. And then… "I promise to bring it back in one piece."

"See that you do," Leia answers, with a little smile.

"Should we go, now? Is there anything else we need to know?" Kylo hadn't expected to be heading out the moment they got back, but perhaps he should have. 

Maz crooks a finger at the tall man. Kylo sees, and drops down into a crouch.

"I want to see the change in you, before you go," she explains, examining him closely. "It is not often a person's eyes change as much as yours have, not often someone sees both sides of the Force so deeply, and comes back. I have seen many fall. Many. But few climb back…"

Kylo offers a very thin smile. "It was not easy."

"I knew you were troubled by the shadows last time, but not… how to help you. I am sorry for that, child. I was not the one you needed to find. I hope you forgive an old woman for trying to warn you, even if she did make you afraid."

"The shadows you saw were deep and old. Snoke is gone, now. I… understand you only meant to help me."

Maz holds a small hand up to Poe, demanding he comes closer, too. "Your husband is doing much better, too, I see. Did you find the door, Poe?" 

Poe moves in closer, dropping down next to Kylo. "I found it," he says, softly, feeling the weight of memory on his shoulders. "It wasn't easy. But… I did."

She takes a hand from each of them, just… holding for a moment. Her wide and wrinkled mouth splits wider still as she smiles, then opens her eyes to look up to them. "You are stronger together. Stronger still, with your friends. You have so much still ahead of you, and more of it is light than is dark. I know."

"Thank you," Kylo says, quietly. 

"You should speak with your mother, before you go. You don't speak to her enough." Maz clucks, then lets go of their hands.

"A common accusation," the Sith agrees, rising carefully. 

Poe stands too, staying close to Kylo as he does. Needing that extra little flicker of contact, to keep him grounded right now.

"So how was Eigengrau?" Leia now asks.

"…Hot," Poe answers at once, entirely meaning to remark on the _climate_ , then realises how it sounded and trying to recover himself before he starts blushing again. "The landing was certainly less traumatic this time. The security systems in the temple seem to like Kylo, and let us in without any surface-to-air cannon fire."

"And no one got eaten by a Rancor," Kylo adds. 

"…which you didn't warn us about," Finn complains.

"It was part of the testing." A shrug. "What kind of Sith Master would I be if I held your hand all the way through? Besides, Rey needs one of them free for her sabre."

Finn rolls his eyes. "You had Poe for your go around."

"Yes, and I wouldn't have managed without him." Kylo's smile is benevolent… and shit-eating, all in one. 

Poe does not quite point out how comprehensively Kylo _did_ have him, both prior to and immediately following the incident with the Rancor. It is possible some of the feelings slip out through the Force, though, and he tries very, very hard to curtail them.

"The whole place is a little insane," Rey says. "And, at the same time… surprisingly effective. It pushes you to draw on both sides of the Force, and I think it would be infinitely more difficult to complete if you didn't."

"And how do you feel, now it's over?" Leia asks.

"I feel… better," is the younger woman's reply. "Like I have more of an understanding of how the two sides of the Force can exist in balance. And… perhaps a little more worthy of what we're about to undertake."

"You helped destroy Snoke. Plagueis. Believe me, Rey, you're more than worthy," Kylo reminds her, with a low, but urgent voice.

"And you both compliment the other so well," Maz says, a little distantly. "It is as if the Force itself is whole, when you stand together. Dark, made bright with Light. Light, made sharper with Dark…"

"And neither existing in isolation," Kylo adds. "After all, most Sith were from the Light, and most Jedi felt the pull of the Dark. I would wager every Jedi felt the call at some point." He looks over to his mother, then. "Even… Luke?" 

"He did," Leia answers, softly, and there is such history in her eyes now. "More than once. It tormented him after… after he first learned the truth about our father. He went into isolation for a time – during which he built his second lightsabre – and he told me he felt the pull of the Dark on more occasions than he could count. Felt it offering him a way out of what he was going through. A way to rescue Han, a way to face the Emperor. He said he might even have fallen to it, were it not for what he saw on Dagobah…"

"…The dark place," Rey surmises. "His vision, of himself as Vader…"

Leia nods. "Yes. He feared falling down the same path that Anakin did, letting his love of the people who mattered most push him beyond what he could accept. He said… fighting _that_ impulse was harder than fighting the Emperor."

"I would guess the stronger someone is in the Force, the bigger the pull to both sides feels," Kylo says, contemplatively. "The more open you are to hearing it, the more things you do hear." 

"There's still a call from the Light, right?" Finn asks.

"Whichever element you align yourself with, the other side calls to you. Light, to the Dark. Dark, to the Light. I would imagine most Darksiders have felt the pull _back_ , but chose to ignore it," Kylo answers him. 

"Because it's not right to split yourself in half?" Finn waits for the nod, and grins. "See. I do pay attention."

"I never said you didn't." Kylo then turns to his mother. "Do we need to know anything else, before we go? I apologise for the briefness of our return. Hopefully once this is over, we'll be able to stay for longer, again." 

Leia takes her son's hand, an understanding look in her eyes. "I hope so too," she answers. "And no, not for now. Everything else has been quiet whilst you were gone. You should set out as soon as you're ready, and find out what is happening on Korriban."

"If the _Phoenix_ is prepped, we can depart immediately," Poe says.

"Then go," Leia says. "And may the Force be with you."

***

Moraband. _Korriban_.

A planet of many names, but one history. It hangs, red-orange and desolate, in the dark of space; the sole planet in the Horuset system. Once the homeworld of the Sith, the location of one of the earliest Sith Academies, and the resting place of many of the great Sith of Old, now it lies alone, whispering its dark and forgotten secrets in the distant Outer Rim. Seven moons follow it as it tracks its ceaseless path around its yellow sun, an ancient circlet to crown the head of this forgotten, darkest of lords.

As the _Phoenix_ drops out of hyperspace just above it, Poe feels a shiver run through him as he stares down at the planet now filling the viewscreen.

"There it is," he says, softly. "But I'm not detecting any other ships in orbit. If the First Order was here, they've either landed, or they're already gone."

Hopefully the latter.

"I don't sense another Knight… though there's Darkness here, power. Old… but Dark. In a way even Eigengrau could barely match." Kylo shudders. "It's… unsettling." 

Very unsettling. It doesn't feel the same way Snoke did, but it's that same source, that same origin. Older, more diffuse, less… targeted. A lake of ill will, rather than a splash of it to the face. 

"It makes the air feel heavy and dangerous, even here," Rey concurs. "Like… the way it feels before a thunderstorm, but worse."

Rey had never seen a thunderstorm before she left Jakku, and Poe remembers the look on her face the first time the base on Tahanan was hit by one. Obviously it's a feeling that has left an impression.

"I'm going to bring us in now," Poe says, trying to keep his mind on flying, and not be distracted by how ominous the two Force-users sound. "I'll put us down at the top of the Valley of the Dark Lords. And then… we can see what's waiting for us."

On some level, he's not sure he wants to know. But… they have to find out.

The _Phoenix_ swoops down over Korriban, soaring towards the surface. Beneath them, the rocky, dust-strewn world races closer, like two dark arms, seizing them and pulling them further in. They sweep over settlements long since abandoned; buildings that speak of a world once at the height of its power, now lost. Or… suppressed.

Eventually, flying lower and lower, they pass over the empty spaceport once known as Dreshdae, and continue on, down into a deep, wide valley bathed in the glow of the setting sun.

The Valley of the Dark Lords.

"Countless Sith are buried here," Rey says, softly, as the ship finally comes to a halt on the dusty ground. "Stretching back millennia. The lore hidden in these tombs could be…"

Her eyes flicker, the pull of the Dark and the restraint of the Light. "…Dangerous."

"Dangerous, but we… do need to understand what we could be fighting against," Kylo reminds her. "The Jedi almost went extinct twice because they didn't understand who they were facing. The Sith did the same, because they couldn't find ways to co-operate."

"And you can use the Dark – or – use knowing what they would do to stop them?" Finn peers through the viewscreen. "How old is this place?" 

"The original Sith people were the inhabitants, and not actually Force-sensitives. Much like Corellians, from Corellia. They were here…" Kylo wracks his brain. "…a long time before any link to the Dark. Then some fallen Jedi settled here around seven thousand years ago."

Finn whistles through his teeth. "Okay. A long time ago. And when was this place still active?"

"It's hard to say for certain. Much of the lore is incomplete, now… the last I could discern was Darth Bane. You recall I mentioned the Rule of Two? He is the one who instigated it, following several bloody civil wars between the Sith. He is buried here, I believe. He passed a thousand years ago, roughly. I don't know if they used this place as anything more than a graveyard after that…" 

"We should… see what's out there," Rey says, glancing back towards the rear hatch of the ship. That flicker of foreboding is still in her eyes, but she is the first of the four of them to stand, as Poe puts the ship into low power mode.

"You're right," he agrees, hand drifting to the sabre-blaster at his hip. "But let's stay close together, until we have a better idea of what we're dealing with."

The four of them step out of the _Phoenix_ , onto the rocky ground of Korriban. Up ahead, the Valley of the Dark Lords stretches out before them: a vast, foreboding place, the setting sun glowing along it. The natural walls of the canyon are marked with dozens of tomb entrances, some large and grand, others little more than gashes in the rock, some so high up that the paths leading to them have long since crumbled away.

But the most significant feature is the statues, standing in two rows along both sides of the valley, and continuing far into the distance, beyond the point where the valley floor falls away. They're huge, towering structures, depicting humanoid figures half-bowing in reverence to their sleeping kings.

The sight of them reminds Poe of the structures on Eigengrau, but these are much better preserved: most are still completely intact, if weather-worn. They loom over the valley, ominous and ethereal, further making the whole place seem hostile and alien.

Kylo glances over to Poe. "Everything okay?" he asks, as they look out around the basin. It's so quiet, with barely any sounds of nature around them. 

"This place makes me feel cold," the pilot answers. "I can only imagine what it must be like for you and Rey. Even in the sunlight, it's so… dark. And I always thought of this place as hot, but now we're here… it isn't."

Also the gravity is a little above normal, leaving him feeling slightly leaden with every step. Not enough to impede or impair, but just enough to further throw him off balance.

Everything about this place is _wrong_.

"I know. But we don't have to stay for long. Just… until we know why Danika was so interested in it, and then we can go back home." Kylo grips Poe's hand, reassuringly, and sends a flicker through their bond to calm him. "It's an old Darkness. It won't harm us. It's dead, and we're not." 

He looks out, trying to get a sense of direction. "I think I can… work out where she went. And we could retrace her steps?" 

"That would be a good place to start," Rey agrees. "This place is huge. Anything to narrow down our search would help."

So the four of them set off – staying close together – following the path down through the valley. The ever-descending sun is dazzlingly bright as they go, but it's a brightness that somehow does not permeate the corners of the valley, the entrances to the tombs, as though something within them chases off the glow.

Eventually, they start heading towards one tomb in particular, and – sure enough – there are traces of recent footprints in the sands leading up to it. The tomb in question is far from being one of the grandest, or the largest, standing a little off to the side, almost as though it has been pushed out of view.

There is a name carved above the entrance, written in the old Sith language. Poe can't read it, but he knows Kylo can – and Rey, too, judging by the way she suddenly stops dead.

"This is _his_ tomb," the young woman says, looking cold.

"His?" Poe repeats.

"Malak. Darth Malak. Revan's apprentice."

"The one who betrayed her," Kylo says. "He fell with her, and then betrayed her. And this was even before there was a Rule of Two. He did it… well. Because of sheer personal malice, I presume."

"Well, they were usually about the selfish, weren't they?" Finn asks. "I mean, Revan wasn't all that nice until she – uh… got better?"

"Your tact is appreciated," Kylo lightly snarks. 

"Hey, no one briefed me on what to say!"

"I don't think there really is a nice way to say 'Stopped being a genocidal maniac'," Kylo agrees. "But 'got better' does seem a little too reductive."

"…Found balance?" Poe suggests, instead. Which, whilst also reductive, is still accurate. "And… we're seriously going in there?"

"If Danika did, we are," Rey points out, and there's no arguing with this. "We need to know what she was looking for."

And, perhaps, what she found.

Finn frowns at the darkness. "Should we use some flashl-- okay, no." 

Kylo offers his lit red sabre to Poe, taking the now-purple one from his belt for his own light-source. "We don't need flashlights, we have something infinitely better." And cooler. 

Rey hands her blue sabre to Finn, choosing – like Kylo – to keep hold of the rather more dangerous one instead. And, in a mix of glittering, humming sabre-light, they head forwards into the tomb of Darth Malak.

The entrance is skewed, almost as soon as they get inside, meaning that the glow of the sun is rapidly obscured, ensuring that anyone without a light source of their own would quickly be plunged into blackness. The tomb itself is obviously artificial, as opposed to a cave; cut out of the red-gold rock and forming blocky, angular lines as they go deeper.

The walls bear more carvings in the old Sith script, surprisingly well-preserved, but not many images. One of the few there are depicts two figures standing in front of what looks like a three-pronged structure of some kind, with the image of a galaxy hovering above it. And, though the image is heavily stylised, it's clear the two figures are Revan – hooded and masked – and a taller, broad-shouldered man holding a single-bladed lightsabre.

"That'll be him, then," Poe remarks, softly, looking at the carving in the red glow of the sabre in his own hand.

They go deeper. Beyond the entrance chamber is a passage leading downwards, into a deeper crypt. At its centre lies a large, square-edged sarcophagus, with that same name carved across its otherwise featureless surface.

The air is _cold_ and foreboding, heavy with hate. And… something more.

_Regret_.

There are more images on the walls, here, though it's the back wall which is most striking: a huge image stretching from floor to ceiling, depicting some kind of rock or crystal, with lines reaching out to a multitude of different planets. And, next to it, an inscription, much larger than any of the other writings on the tomb walls.

"What does it say?" Poe asks, when they all pause to look at it.

"' _We were both wrong. We were both right. I will finish what you started_ '," Rey translates, carefully.

"…that… is not entirely helpful," Kylo grumbles, peering at the iconography. "I've not seen anything like this, before. It looks like a crystal, but this implies it's much bigger than one you'd use in a lightsabre. Although… the Sith did tend to use artificial kyber crystals, and those are what the Empire and the Order put inside their superweapons."

"Like the Starkiller?" Finn frowns. 

"And both Death Stars," Kylo confirms. "Let's look around and see if there's anything else obvious…?" 

"Is that not obvious enough, Darth Kylo?" comes a voice from the corner; a voice that is most assuredly not any of the four of them. A strange heat spirals into the ancient chamber, sourceless and undeniable, seconds before a blue-hazed figure blurs into view close to the ancient carving.

The Force-ghost of Darth Revan.

Poe has to suppress a yelp of surprise, partly at the sudden appearance, but rather more so because…

"…Kylo. Kylo, I can see her."

Which, given that he's not Force-sensitive, is supposed to be impossible.

"…you can?" Kylo asks, even though Poe's just said he can, because how in the Force can Poe see a Force ghost?

"…me too. Is that… not normal?" Finn asks.

"Well… no," Poe insists, staring at the ghost that he can still see and blinking several times, to work out if this makes a difference.

It does not.

"Force-ghosts are manifestations of people _in_ the Force," Rey explains. "If you can't use the Force, you shouldn't be able to see them. And yet…"

Revan folds her arms and – though incorporeal – appears to be leaning on the wall, seeming halfway between irritated and highly amused.

"Could it be the Force bonds?" Poe wonders. "As in… does it only work for Finn and I when Rey and Kylo are in the room?"

"We could leave, and see if you can still see her…" Kylo glances over to his mentor. "It's important. For science." Or something. 

"Yes, that," Rey decides. "We should try that."

And she walks up out of the central tomb and back up the passageway towards the entrance chamber. "Did it work?" she calls to Finn.

"…I can't see her, no."

"Could you talk, please?" Kylo asks Revan. "If Rey can hear you, and Finn can, too…" 

"…Is this a _bad_ time?" Revan says, tone as dry as the crypt itself.

"Whoa. Okay, I can hear her, but not… uh…" he turns to where he remembers seeing her. "Sorry, Ma'am. It's just new to me and Poe. We didn't mean disrespect."

"It's also important for our teaching our Apprentices," Kylo tries, also abashed. "And sorry. Please… you were letting me know how stupid I currently am being?" 

Rey paces back into the room, stepping in close to Finn's side, meaning that they can once again all see the apparition staring over at them.

"Are we all done now?" Revan asks. "I realise all four of you enjoy finding uses for your Force-bonds that would have made my second Apprentice recoil in exasperation but, really, I did come here for a reason. As did you. As did the new Master of the Knights of Ren."

"Danika," Poe says, carefully, still _very_ taken aback by all this. "Did you speak to her as well?"

"I most assuredly did not," Revan insists. "You, on the other hand, despite your… _high spirits_ … seem to need a nudge in the right direction." A smile. "And what are Force-ghosts for, if not that?"

The spectral figure takes a few steps closer, and then points to the carving on the wall behind her. "This is what you are looking for. The same thing young Danika Ren is looking for. The same thing I looked for; the same thing Malak looked for."

"Yes, but… what is it?" Kylo asks, trying to sound polite and not minorly frustrated. He is not the most patient of people, though he does try to be. "A giant crystal… which… it's not a weapon, is it?"

"Not exactly," Revan says. "And, at the same time…" Her expression goes a little distant. "This is a large kyber crystal, but one which lay for countless aeons at a… nexus, in the Force. As such, it took on a unique property, one that has never been replicated in any other kyber crystal in recorded history. It was known as the Eye of Chikara – the planet on which it originated – and was said to have the ability to detect Force-users all across the galaxy."

She stares at the wall-carving for a moment, and then down at the sarcophagus in the centre of the chamber. "Malak wanted to find it. He believed it would aid us in our war against the Jedi. In the beginning… I disagreed. I thought we did not need to waste time and resources chasing down a myth, not when we already had armies at our disposal. But after his death… after I killed him… after I brought his body back here to entomb him with the rest of our kind… I had a change of heart. His armies had not saved him. They were not enough. So… I went in search of something that might be."

"Did you find it?" Kylo asks, his tone softer, sadder. Suddenly painfully aware that there's only two of them, against six. That there's only eight of their kind – of either side – left standing and trained.

More than in his uncle's day, but not by much. They're whittling themselves to extinction, year by year. 

"No," Revan admits. "I managed to locate the planet Chikara, deep within the Unknown Regions, but the Eye had long since been moved from there. I searched for it for years, falling deeper and deeper into my need to find it, my _need_ to possess such power. I was lost in my desire, in my rage, burning my way through world after world in search of it. And then… I stopped. I left my armies in the hands of my generals and I came here, to Korriban, to meditate on all that had happened. To find a new way forward. That… was when Carth came back. When everything changed. I gave up on my search for the Eye and set my focus on a new goal. Eigengrau."

"And your armies?" Kylo asks. "What became of them? Your great war machine?" Because if the legends hold true, he's sure they were formidable in the extreme. 

"Most remained loyal to me," is Revan's answer, though it's obvious the word 'most' weighs heavy on her. "Though I had changed focus, I still had a sizeable empire to maintain. My armies became predominantly defensive, protecting the worlds we held. Some of the generals were unhappy about halting our progress, and… were not easy, to keep in line. But I had to do it. I wanted to convince the Republic – and the Jedi – that my new order was not their enemy."

"And… when you died?" Kylo prompts, just as carefully. "Did it fade, and vanish?" 

"It did," Revan says, and now there is a flicker of pain in her voice. Pain and resignation. "I bought back my soul, and the man I loved, but at the cost of everything I had achieved. My armies scattered. The remaining Sith wrote me off as a heretic, whilst the Jedi were more than happy to continue seeing me as a treacherous Darksider who had only ever been out to corrupt their numbers. Both of my apprentices were long-dead, by my hand, and I never took a third. Eigengrau was my legacy, but with no new master, it fell into ruin, unsung and forgotten. Until… you."

"But I do not regret it," she adds. "I regret much of what I did in the Dark, but I do not regret turning back from it. Nor do I regret Eigengrau. I would rather one person remembered me for that, than countless worlds remembered me for the rest."

"We've seen what Malak is remembered for," Kylo points out. "And a few people have heard of him, and nothing more. In time, few will remember Darth Vader, but for the bedtime stories. But when we get our own Apprentices, our own Padawans, they will know you founded this Order."

He paces closer to the carving, reaching out to touch the lines. "This could help us, too. To find new students." 

Revan's expression is… complicated. "It could, yes," she answers, levelly. "If you could find it. Danika Ren certainly thinks so, but _she_ must not be allowed to find the Eye of Chikara. In her hands… in the hands of any committed Darksider… it is a terrible weapon. A way to hunt down those who walk in the Light – or those who walk in Balance – no matter where they hide."

"But… is that a power anyone should have?" Rey asks, cautiously, having listened to all of this in careful silence. "Such… omniscience… must be dangerous."

"Quite," Revan agrees. "And if you find it… that burden will fall on you, Darth Rey. You, and Darth Kylo."

"But… we don't have to force people to follow us, if we find them," Kylo argues. "We can show them the possibilities, offer them the potential, and see if they follow us?"

"What about people who say no?" Finn asks.

"…then we don't train them, and they just know they're Force-sensitive?"

"And… nothing else happens?"

"What else would?" 

"They'd be marked," Rey says, softly, understanding. "Identified. Which means other people could find them. People whose intentions are less benevolent than ours."

Revan nods. "Precisely. You of all people know how the world changes when you are revealed as Force-sensitive."

"But… who would want to turn down an opportunity like this?" Poe asks. "If we arrive and tell someone they have the potential to be a Knight of Eigengrau… you think many would turn us down?"

"Yes," is Revan's answer. "Oh yes. Not everyone wants to save the galaxy, Poe Dameron. Some of them want to continue doing what everyone else does. Live lives. Work jobs. Fly ships."

"…can't we approach them quietly?" Kylo asks. "Without flagging them up for the galaxy to see? How do we do it, if not advertise and go to each planet for people to be tested for sensitivity? And even then, that would obviously upset plenty of people who wanted to join up but lacked the ability?"

"Perhaps you see now why the Eye of Chikara has the potential to cause such dischord?" Revan says, with a knowing smile. "The possibilities are endless. The dangers are undeniable. If you find it… you will have to strike a balance between the two. But… there is a second concern for you to deal with. This object is a huge kyber crystal, of near-perfect clarity. Such a thing would be capable of operating as the focus point of a weapon, and its connection to the Force would only further amplify the effect. Should it fall into the hands of your enemies, they would not simply have a way to track down Force-sensitives across the galaxy. They would also have the means to destroy them, a planet at a time."

Kylo starts at that, his sabre in an offensive position before he's processed that his anger has taken over. It's a moment before he checks it, before he realises he's trigger-fingered into stance. "No. I won't let them do that." His voice is lower, the words growled out.

He won't. Danika… wouldn't do it, would she? She'd try to recruit them, not… destroy them. Right? He likes to think so, and now he can't decide if he'd prefer one or the other possibility.

Poe immediately puts a hand on Kylo's arm, trying to ground him. " _We_ won't let them do that," he says, carefully. "We won't. We'll find it before they do and… and whatever happens afterwards, at least we'll know they don't have it."

"How do we even find it?" Rey asks. "I mean… if you never did…"

"You can pick up where I left off," Revan answers. "Chikara itself. Danika spent quite some time poring over the texts left within the ruins of the old Sith Academy here. I am afraid to say she took most of those texts with her, and I believe she will be able to locate Chikara with what she has. But I can give you a head-start. Literally, in fact…"

The Sith of Old gives a wave of the hand, and all of a sudden Poe feels a brief, sharp thudding inside his head, like the way it feels when Kylo goes into his mind, albeit with a different edge. It lasts only a few seconds, but as the feeling subsides, he knows it has left something behind.

"…OK, there are numbers in my head," he says. "They're… are they hyperspace co-ordinates?"

Revan nods. "They are. They will lead you directly to Chikara."

Kylo is half-impressed, half-insulted that Revan can – and will – do that to his husband. But of all the people other than Rey who he'd accept doing it, Revan numbers amongst the very few. Maybe only Luke and Anakin would also be allowed to do so. Poe is his, after all. 

"Is there anything else we should know, before we go?" he asks the long-dead Sith. 

"Be wary of Chikara," Revan answers. "The whole planet is flooded with the power of the Force, of both sides. When you go there… it may test you in ways you do not expect."

Her eyes meet Poe's, just for a second. "Or in ways you do."

"It would be nice if the Force decided we'd been tested enough," Kylo grumbles, not really annoyed, but resigned. "Thank you, Darth Revan. I hope we find what you were looking for." 

Revan nods. "If anyone can, you can," she says. "May the Force be with you all."

And the apparition of the long-dead Sith fades from view.

"…OK, _that_ was weird," Poe manages.

"It's normally how it happens," Kylo says. "Or… how it happens when they appear to me, anyway."

"This happen a lot to you two?" Finn looks to Rey. 

"Not often, not to me," Rey answers. "I've seen Master Luke a few times since his death, but this is the first time I've spoken to anyone else. Although… in the throneroom of the _Decimator_ , right after Snoke's death… I saw Luke, and Revan, and a man I'm certain was Anakin Skywalker."

Kylo nods. "That was my grandfather, yes. I didn't know – well. I suppose I should have known you saw them, too. I just…" A shrug. "I'm used to others not being there when I talk to them." He steps away from the carving. "How far away is Chikara?"

Poe rubs a hand over his eyes, trying to focus on the numbers in his head. They feel different, almost alien, and it's only when he tries to get a vague idea for where they lead that he realises why.

"A _long_ way," he answers. "I'd need to punch the co-ordinates into a navicomputer to be sure, but as an estimate, I'd say they point so somewhere deep inside the Unknown Regions, right on the furthest reaches of the galaxy."

"Of course." Makes logical sense. It does. "So… we should get going. Danika's got a head start on us, and we can't let her get to this crystal." Kylo nods towards the exit to the tomb. "Everyone ready?"

"Yes," Poe says. " _Very_ ready." Certainly ready to get off this planet again as soon as possible. At least they're not going to have to spend a long time here. Although… he really wishes Revan could have just appeared to them back on Tahanan, and saved them the trip.

But. They have the information they need, so they can get going. The four of them file out of the tomb of Darth Malak, one after the other: Rey in the lead, and Poe the last to leave.

Something makes him look back, as he does, and – just for a second – he's sure the name carved on the top of that sarcophagus glows, for the barest instant, like the words on the temple walls on Eigengrau. But… no. No. He's imagining it.

Poe turns back to the passageway ahead, and follows the others towards the light.


	7. Planning Stages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday, readers! We return with another chapter, as we start moving the plot further into gear.
> 
> We hope you enjoy! :-)

Danika and Daria share adjoining rooms, flanking a central, shared work area. The twins have never liked being too far apart for too long, and here is no exception.

The shared area is a little larger than most, but just as stark. Few personalising touches grace the dark-walled room; it's all in their quarters. The two twins are deep in low conversation, pushing old flimsi and holo-records around as they pick through glimpses of a lore almost forgotten. A Sith tradition: not one that they ascribe to, but one they can still use. 

When the door bleeps lowly, Danika pauses before she signals assent for it to open, then looks back at the pictures of something long and crystalline. 

General Hux does not enjoy having to come here. He does not enjoy _anything_ to do with the Knights of Ren, and especially with their new Master. But it is one of the necessities of their alliance, and as such must be endured.

Although… much as he has no interest in this Sith lore that Danika has brought back from Korriban, he is intrigued to see where it might lead. For its practical applications, of course, but still.

He paces into the room as the door opens, unsurprised to find the central workspace spread with the records from Korriban, but rather more surprised to find the two women unmasked as they work. Hux knows Danika and Daria are twins, but he's never seen their faces before, and he's surprised by quite how identical they are: pale-skinned, with elegant cheekbones and bright eyes. The only difference is in the way they wear their long, blonde hair: both have it braided and pinned back – no doubt to keep it from showing under their helmets – but Danika's is much sharper and more severe, whereas Daria's has more of a wave to it. Almost like…

…No. No. Do not think about that. No.

"You're back from Vikenza, then," Daria says, glancing up.

"So it would appear," Hux answers, dryly. "Have you learned anything from these texts yet?"

"Perhaps." Danika doesn't really bother to make eye-contact. She's accustomed to her mask, anyway, so people never really know if she's looking at them or not. And if they did know, she also wouldn't care. "There is something in the texts about… I believe it to be a crystal of great power and size." 

This piques Hux's interest, though he keeps his voice level as he speaks. "A kyber crystal?" he asks.

Now _that_ is something he could get behind. Finding the crystals needed to operate the Starkiller had been difficult, but when properly honed… they were a weapon like no other.

"The ones Sith used were synthetic, usually, but this one looks to be organic…" Danika looks up, eventually, and vaguely acknowledges his existence. "It seems it was particularly clear, resonant, and precise. And… imbued with deep Force-sensitivity."

She turns around one holo with an etching, depicting the picture in the tomb. "Look. It's shown touching multiple planets." 

A picture on the wall of some long-dead Sith's burial crypt, and she thinks it represents _reality_? Hux has to suppress a sigh of exasperation. "You think this is a depiction of something real?" he asks.

Daria rolls her eyes at him. "Of _course_ it's real. There are a number of references to something like this in the texts we brought back."

"And what does it _do_?"

Danika wonders why they bother with non-sensitives. They're all idiots. They don't believe anything until it has them choking, or breaks their bones, do they? "It's real. And I think it can find other Force-sensitives. That's what the texts imply. If that's so, we can build a bigger Order, and have even more power."

A crystal to find Force-sensitives? Hux finds himself liking the sound of that. Although… he suspects the use _he_ would put it to, in that respect, is not what Danika is proposing. Thankfully, there is always its other potential use to consider.

"I imagine it could also be used as the focusing crystal for a weapon," he points out.

A _large_ weapon.

Always with the weapons, Danika thinks. "Yes. It could. Although do you even have the capacity, now your Starkiller is gone?" 

Hux's eyes narrow, and he doesn't bother to try holding in the wave of _hate_ that radiates off him at that. Let her feel it. Let them both. He almost snaps back something in reply, but catches himself in time and takes a deep breath instead.

"Yes," he answers, shortly. "My R and D teams are already working on a number of possibilities. Although… my personal leaning is towards something a little smaller this time around."

The Research and Development people had looked at him oddly when he'd suggested that to them. Why would you want to _downsize_ on the legacy of the Starkiller, or the Death Star? And, at first, he'd thought the same.

But the fact of the matter is: both the Starkiller and the Death Star destroyed entire planets. Swift, impressive, decisive. And yet… detached. The victims died nigh-on instantly. Everyone else, though understandably stunned and horrified by the possibilities, was sufficiently removed from the devastation to prevent them feeling it as strongly as they should.

If you want to inspire true terror, you need _survivors_.

" _Smaller_?" Daria repeats, unimpressed.

"Yes," Hux says, just as shortly as before. "Something that would destroy cities, countries, perhaps continents, but not whole planets. Not all at once. Something that would devastate the ones left behind, and leave them in little doubt as to the consequences of standing against the First Order."

"You want to make 'smaller is bigger' a thing?" Danika asks, amused of a sudden. "You should have been a politician, if so. Although… if it is smaller, it will be more manoeuvrable, and less prone to being blown up by Resistance morons."

"Precisely," Hux all but snaps, as if this should be obvious. And _would_ be, to anyone with _real_ military training. "Smaller, more manoeuvrable, easier to power without having to build in _vulnerabilities_ ," _fucking Precinct 47_ , "and less likely to draw attention until it is too late."

"And you really think destroying smaller targets will still be a statement enough? Won't it look a little like you're back-tracking, or scaling back, or losing if you down-size?" Danika just doesn't understand how going from the ability to destroy a system's whole inhabited worlds to a city could be considered a tactical progression. 

"Yes," Hux answers, flatly. "Because it is _tactical_." Even the R and D people understood faster than this. Though possibly this is partly because they were scared of him, whereas Danika – tediously – is not remotely so. "Besides, it is but an element of our operations going forward. After Vikenza… everything will change."

"Oh, your wonderful pet Senator." She clearly doesn't approve of that, either. Danika doesn't like this distant, impersonal side of their war. It's dull and meaningless to her. She likes to strike personal terror into hearts, and then let that spread out. Not use buttons and votes and speeches and explosions. "Well, if you think it won't result in a huge loss of face…" 

Hux seethes for a moment, and – for an instant – finds himself wishing that Kylo Ren was here instead of these two insufferable _children_. At least their old master had _some_ military finesse.

Plus, there was only one of him.

"No. It will not. It will result in precisely the outcome I have planned for, and will strike a blow to the Resistance that they will not see coming, nor be able to block. As for Senator Abell, do not concern yourself with him. He will do what I tell him to do, and he will reap the benefits he wants from it, and he will continue to operate in his tiny sphere of influence, satisfied with his place in it all. And _I_ will control the bigger picture."

"Fine. You do your… buttons and speeches. We'll tell you what we need for our crystal," Danika says, sounding still completely unimpressed. "And if we can use it for both purposes, then we'll let you put it in your new weapon-ship. This the one… Shippy Mc… Shippersomething?" 

Hux tries counting to ten in his head. He gets to four before he loses his resolve. "The _Successor_ ," he snaps, shortly. "It is called the _Successor_."

Children. They are _children_.

"Well. Inform me when and _if_ you work out where this mythical crystal can be found."

"I will. I have a planet I need you to take us to," Danika says, with an oh-so-sweet smile. "It seems to be where it was originally from, but you'll need to find out the co-ordinates as it's not in these texts. Chikara is the name." 

A planet. With no co-ordinates. A planet somewhere in a galaxy of _billions_. Because of course he can just pull something like that out of nowhere. Right.

"Get me what information you can about it," Hux replies, tone flat again. "I will have our people search the archives and attempt to discern its location."

"Of course." Danika smiles. It is not a nice smile, nor a sweet one. It is probably for the best that she normally wears her mask, because her real face is much more distressing, all told. "I'm sure you're very busy, which is why you thought to come visit without calling first." 

Hux's eyes narrow. "I am always busy," he says. "You know how to reach me if you find any _firm_ information."

And, without waiting for a response, he turns on his heel and stalks from the room.

Daria doesn't speak until the door has closed. When it has, she looks over at her sister. "This deal of yours with the General is not going to end well."

"Not if he keeps that up, it won't," Danika mutters, darkly. "He's needed for the short term, but it won't last in the longer term. I'd like you to pick up as much as you can about that side of things. Maybe look for a replacement should he ever… have an unfortunate accident?" Or fifteen. Sharp, or blaster-shaped ones. 

"He has a huge amount of support in the ranks, Danika," Daria points out, ever the more cautious. "If we're going to move against him, murdering him in a dark corner is not the way to do it. Even if it would be infinitely more satisfying."

"I meant _eventually_ , not tomorrow." Danika flicks her tightly-braided hair back into place. "Obviously the way to end him would be part of the research and study we undertake, before we go ahead with it. He's sadly our best option at the moment, but that won't always be the case." 

"No. It won't always be the case." Daria looks down at the ancient scripts and records covering the table. "If we find this crystal… the one from Chikara… what _do_ you plan to do with it? Track down other Force-sensitives and teach them the ways of the Dark Side?"

"Precisely. We need to increase our numbers, and keep them out of the traitor's hands. He'll warp them to the Light, and use them to fight us. They need to know the truth, and we'll show it to them." Danika speaks like the true believer she is. She _knows_ what she is saying is right, and it shows in her unshaking, fanatical tone. 

"But how do we make it work?" Daria wonders, aloud. "We'd need some kind of base of operations. We can't bring them all here to the _Finalizer_ , or to that other ship Hux is building. We need… somewhere of our own. A base. An… academy."

"I'd like you to look into that. Find somewhere safe, defensible. Although I don't agree with everything the Order does, they have got the 'bringing children up to understand order' thing well in hand. Do you think you'd be able to spearhead that? A place, and a method? It could tie in with observing how the military arm works." The older twin smiles at her sister, a little flicker of pride through their Bond. 

"It seems like it would be the kind of thing you'd excel at, and I trust you more than all of the others put together." 

This makes Daria smile. "I can do that. I can get someone from the First Order to give me some pointers on how they run their early-years operations. Then we can take the things that work and use them ourselves."

She sighs. "It's going to have to be Hux. I could try asking Phasma, but no doubt she would defer to the General. And _he_ will want to show me himself." Another sigh. "I'll play nice. Nice-ish."

Danika reaches out to glance a hand over her sister's. "You're better at nice than I am. And then you can work out our plan about him, better. The sooner we don't have to rely on anyone else again, the better. Things always work best when we don't have to rely on fools. Especially those without the Force." 

"Right," Daria agrees. "And when we're in charge, _really_ in charge, we can finish what the Leader started. Maybe even surpass him."

"Oh, we'll surpass him. For one, we won't have any disloyal Knights. The Leader was an idiot. Almost as much of an idiot as the traitor, if not more, for letting him get away with what he did…" Danika has no patience for stupidity, none whatsoever. 

"We'll wipe out the Jedi once and for all. Destroy them. Wipe their names from the Basic tongue. We'll make the galaxy see the Dark as the only real way, and we'll be the ones in control. Of _everything_." Really, Kylo leaving was the best thing to ever happen, in a way. Now they don't have to stay fettered, they can really achieve their full potential. 

" _Yes_ ," Daria agrees, eyes flashing with fire. "Ours will be the empire that endures. And ours the names that live forever: not Vader, not Sidious, not Snoke, and certainly not Skywalker. **Ours**."

Danika holds her hand out, gloved, but it still conjures up the tiny ball of light they used to use, when they started to train. It crackles with a very faint hint of lightning – not mastered, barely there, but there – and she beams over it. "Together," she says, and tosses the ball to Daria for her to catch and extinguish. 

Daria's hand goes up at once, trapping the ball of light between her fingers and making it fizzle out in a little flare of haze. "Together," she echoes.

It's how they have always been. And how they will always be.

***

Shortly after getting back to Tahanan, and just as he's contemplating arranging some flight time with the squadron – to relax himself somewhat after the whole Korriban experience – Poe is interrupted as BB-8 comes wheeling over, to tell him that Leia wants to talk to him, and Kylo. He meets the other man at the entrance to the central bunker, and the two of them head in together, with BB-8 trundling along behind them.

Leia is waiting for them inside, at the back of the central command chamber, and she isn't alone. Han is with her, which means Poe finds himself immediately wondering what else is going on.

"There you are," Leia starts out. "What happened on Korriban?"

"…we apparently have to find an ancient Sith crystal – Sithstal? – which can find all Force-sensitives or blow them up," Kylo announces. "Also, Force-bonded non-sensitives can see Force ghosts if their Force-mate is with them. And hear them, if the sensitive is in ear-shot. I'm not sure how much use this information really is, but it was interesting to find out."

"…what the hell were you two up to?" Han asks, baffled.

"Science."

"Maker help us."

Kylo rolls his eyes. "You're just jealous I have ghost friends and you don't, Dad."

"Got enough of you kooks running around who aren't dead. No offence." That's added much too late. 

"You saw another Force-ghost?" Leia says, obviously attempting to move the conversation back onto safer ground.

"Darth Revan," Poe answers. "It was quite a shock when Finn and I realised we could see her too. And then she proceeded to tell us all about some kind of ancient, massive kyber crystal with the power to locate Force-sensitives anywhere in the galaxy. One that would also make a near-perfect focusing crystal for a superweapon."

" _Maker_ ," Leia breathes.

"Which Danika is already trying to find," Kylo says, sounding aggrieved. "But we have the co-ordinates of the planet it came from, and Revan says Danika doesn't. Which means we're going to look for a lead before she can." 

"Where you headed?" Han asks. 

"To a planet called Chikara," Poe tells them. "It's uncharted; deep within the Unknown Regions. Revan… put the hyperspace co-ordinates in my head. We need to go where they lead and see what we can find."

"Could this crystal still be there?" Leia wonders.

Poe shakes his head. "Revan said it isn't. She said she went looking for it back when… you know, back when she was alive. But it had been moved, and she never worked out where it was taken."

"But you reckon there's a map she didn't find?" Han snorts.

"No, Dad. But I do think we'll feel for its resonance, and get some idea of it, so if it comes to it I can meditate my way to finding it."

"Wouldn't it be better to post a bounty notice for it?"

"…and let Danika know we know, and also have her out-bid us?" Kylo rolls his eyes. "Anyway. That's what we're doing. What did you want us for?"

Leia gives Kylo a don't-be-short-with-your-father look, although she doesn't comment. "I was concerned about you," she answers. "From what I've heard, Korriban is not an easy place to visit. And… there's something I need you to do. Well. Actually, something I need _Poe_ to do, though I'm sure he'll want you to be part of it."

Poe meets Leia's eyes, realising what she's going to say a second before she speaks.

"Poe. Don't you think it's about time you went to see your father?"

"I do see my father," he insists, unconvincingly. "We talk on the holo all the time."

Leia gives him a flat look. "You talk on the holo almost never. I checked the comm logs. In the last few months, you helped destroy a superweapon and played a key role in the death of Supreme Leader Snoke. You also became a Grey Sith, and let us not forget the part where you got _married_."

"…I told him about all that." Sort of. In a written message.

Poe sighs. He loves his father, deeply, and he knows his father loves him back. But, ever since Poe gave up on the Republic Navy and went to join the Resistance, things between them have been… strained.

"You made me come home," Kylo points out, "…and I went **evil**. So you really don't have an excuse." Kylo is also very totally his mother's son, quite obviously.

"Yeah, so you go talk to Kes," Han adds. Also very much of the Team We Do What Leia Says. "And tell him he better come back, or I'll call in that debt he owes me. Fifty credits, it was…" 

There really is no standing up to all three Organa-Solos when they're on a roll. Especially when – for once – they appear to be agreeing with each other. Poe shakes his head. Maybe they enjoy making him suffer. Maybe it's a family trait.

"…Fine," he concedes. "All right. I'll go see him. We'll go to Chikara, and then come home via Yavin 4."

Leia nods. "Good. And you can take this with you. To give to him."

There's an odd flicker in her eyes as she hands Poe a single file dossier. He opens it, and stares at what's inside for a few seconds, before quickly snapping it shut again.

"…This is not a good idea," he says.

Leia gives him an arch look. "Don't you mean, 'Yes, General?'"

"Shouldn't that be, 'Yes, Leia'?" he replies, with just the faintest edge of cheek.

His mother-in-law pats him on the arm. "I knew I liked you."

Kylo, curious by nature, wants to see what's in there. Of course he does. He tries to lean over, frustrated when he can't get enough to fully understand the significance. " _Tell me, later_ ," he asks Poe over the Bond.

"Also maybe break the wedding thing to him gentle, like," Han suggests. "Unless you really have been talking to him. Which Leia says you ain't been." 

Poe looks guilty. "I was! A bit. And then… then Eigengrau and… and the whole thing with Snoke, and… I sent him a message. But I didn't know how to tell him all of it."

And their last spoken conversation had been weighing on him. _I know you're fighting for the Republic. I know. So was I. So was your mother. And look where that got us._

"Poe," Leia says, more gently. "This is not us ganging up on you. This is us telling you that you need to talk to your father."

He sighs, and nods. She's right. Of course she's right.

"Plus, I'll be with you. If he's mean, then I'll pick him up by the collar and scowl at him," Kylo offers, meaning to make Poe laugh, not to genuinely threaten his father-in-law.

"For the record, do that to me…?" Han shakes his head. Absolutely not.

"I don't need to. Uncle Chewie will for me," Kylo says, smirking widely.

"You little shit."

"Love you too." 

Leia pats Poe on the arm again. "It will be fine. Trust me. Although… will you be taking Rey and Finn with you as well?"

Poe has been thinking about this, and is glad to be able to move his focus onto it. "Actually, it might be wise not to," he says. "We don't know what's waiting for us on Chikara, but from what Revan said… it might not be good."

He remembers the way she'd looked at him as she told them all that. What had that look meant? Was it a warning? A threat?

"So," he goes on, trying to stay on target, "would it perhaps be sensible not to have _both_ of our Masters of Eigengrau go, in case… something bad happens?"

"You think Rey will even let us leave her behind?" Kylo is not so sure about that. After all, he wouldn't want to be left behind, if the situation was reversed. "Even if it's tactically sensible." 

"I'm confident she won't be happy about it," Poe answers. "But it _is_ tactically sensible. And sometimes… you have to focus on the bigger picture. We're talking about going off to an uncharted planet in the Unknown Regions. A planet _so_ unknown, a millennia-dead Sith had to put the co-ordinates in my head to allow us to even find it. We don't know what we might face there."

"Those are the best places to go," Han drolls, rolling his eyes. 

"It's right, of course it's right. It's…" Kylo shakes his head. "Okay. I'll talk to her. Plus, she might not want to be there for when we speak to your father. It might look a little impersonal, or like we're ganging up on him." 

"…That too," Poe says. It is not why he made the suggestion in the first place. But… it will help. In many ways, he's _less_ concerned about going to Chikara than Yavin 4. "We should probably get started. The co-ordinates we're heading to are deep in the Unknown Regions and it'll be a long trip out there."

"Be careful," Leia tells them both. "I truly hope you find what you're looking for."

"Thanks," Kylo says, with a dip of his head. "We'll maybe be back for more than half an hour at a time, soon." 

The galaxy seems to want to send them on one wild chase after the other at the moment. Kylo likes being busy, he does, but he would also like a bit of time with his own bed. With Poe in it, obviously, but… yes. Strange how deeply he's come to like his 'home'. 

And off they go, to make their preparations for a journey into the unknown.

And… the other thing.

***

The _Phoenix_ hurtles through hyperspace.

The co-ordinates have been accepted by the navicomputer, although with the usual warnings about the destination being uncharted and travel not being recommended. Poe overrides it all, knowing he has to trust the numbers in his head – and the long-dead Sith who put them there – and that they're not en route to appear in the middle of a star. Or worse.

It's just him, and Kylo, and BB-8 on board. Rey had not been happy about being left behind, but she accepted the logic of it in the end, and told them in no uncertain terms to come back with something useful. And not to die.

Good advice, really.

Watching the haze streak by the front window of the Upsilon-class shuttle, Poe's mind is elsewhere. Not so much on where they're going, but… where they're going _after that_.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Kylo asks, his tone as light and non-confrontational as he can make it. He can sense Poe's unease, could sense it even without the Force. And he's worried for his husband, he really is.

He's also kicking himself for not making him go _home_ sooner. Because he'd been hoarding him, and hiding, too. 

"No," Poe admits, but his tone is light and wry, and not at all hostile or unkind. He sighs. "I'm an idiot. I know that. Most of this mess is probably my fault. And, if it was anyone else, I'd've made them fix it a long time ago."

Another sigh. "My dad may not have been a general or a Jedi or a squadron leader, but he was still an important part of the Rebellion. He was a Pathfinder. One of the team – one of _your_ dad's team – who took out the shield protecting the second Death Star, on Endor. He kept fighting for the Rebellion – for the _New Republic_ – long after that. He, and my mother. But after a time, they retired. They went to Yavin 4, to enjoy their lives together. To… to raise me. Only… then… the one time my mother came _out_ of retirement, to help the Republic, to help because they needed more pilots… Giderra Prime."

He doesn't feel the need to elaborate on that one any more than necessary. Thanks to Eigengrau, Kylo knows all about what happened at Giderra Prime. Knows all about the night Shara Bey-Dameron died.

Kylo nods, and reaches out for Poe's hand. "Which he can't have been happy with. I know… if I lost you, no matter if we'd retired or not…" He can't imagine how he'd feel, but he suspects it would likely end in lots of people dying violently and noisily. "And… I'm guessing he thought he'd lose you, too?" 

"Yes," Poe answers. "He was happy when I joined the Republic Navy. It wasn't until much later that I realised why… that I saw they just weren't doing _enough_. That they were too deep in denial about the threat posed by the First Order, that they were never going to _act_. Only… _re_ act. So… one thing led to another… and I left to join the Resistance instead. Took Karé and Iolo with me. When my dad found out… he wasn't pleased. He thought it would get me killed, the way it… the way it got Mom killed…"

His voice wavers. He doesn't know precisely what transpired between his parents, the day Shara left for Giderra Prime, but he knows that Kes blames himself for not trying to talk her out of it.

The hand on Poe's gets tighter, and Kylo sends a flicker of reassurance into him. "It must have been very hard for him, to watch you literally follow in her footsteps, knowing it's what – to him – got her killed. But that's just because he loves you, Poe. He loves you, and he doesn't want to lose you, too." 

At least his family were the other way. No one ever batted an eyelid if a Skywalker-Organa-Solo family member threw themselves headlong into a fight. It was if they ever ran they'd be considered 'wrong'. 

Poe nods. "I know," he says, a little tremor in his voice. "And he… he believes in the Republic. He believes in the Resistance, too, but he thinks… he thinks we won't win this. He thinks the First Order is just the Empire under another name… and there's truth in that… and he's scared everything he fought for, everything Mom and several of his friends _died_ for… was all for nothing."

In many ways, that thought is scarier to Poe than the thought of the First Order winning. He's lost people too. He's seen people he cares about lose people _they_ cared about. If it was all for nothing… the thought would be unbearable.

"The Dark won't go away forever. We know that. There's never going to be a time when there's no dark – no _evil_ , should I say… but if we don't fight back to reduce how much power it has, that is when it wins," Kylo says. "We took down a weapon capable of killing whole star systems. A Darksider capable of destroying generations of Jedi. It's _not_ for nothing. And we have to show him that… we have to show him that the years of peace, or less-war, are worth the sacrifices…" 

"You're right," Poe answers, taking a deep breath. "I know it. I believe it too. I _know_ we're doing the right thing, and I know the people we've lost didn't die in vain. We have to fight. The only alternative is giving in to evil, and that… I will not do."

He just needs to find a way to make his father think the same.

"Then we tell him this. I know – I know we can't… I know I can't understand what it's like to lose my wife, or mother, but… there must be some way to let him see what we _can still do_ , or how much worse it would be if everyone gave up fighting, right?" Kylo has to hope they can.

So must his mother, or she wouldn't send them to see him.

"Besides. Your husband was a Fixer-Upper. I'm pretty much… uh… on the poster for 'keep fighting', right?" 

Poe laughs, warmly, and reaches to grip Kylo's hand again. "Well, he'll be pleased I helped you come back from the brink, if nothing else. Even if he might be a little… alarmed… by how it all started."

He shakes his head at himself. "I'm probably over-thinking the rest of it. It just… turned into a whole _thing_ in my head and blew itself out of proportion."

"Hey, I pretty much didn't come back home from the _Dark_ for slightly similar reasons. I didn't think people – and… mostly my family… would be prepared to accept me back. So you're talking to the right man, Poe. You made the grave mistake of fighting the good fight. If anything, it's your father who will be embarrassed at his own actions. You ever… consider that?" 

"Yeah. I considered it. But I can't see him as anything other than a war hero. He _is_ a war hero. I…"

Poe shakes his head again. "You see now why I prefer to talk about other people's problems?"

"I do. But that doesn't mean we should ignore yours," Kylo replies, and stands to lean over, to kiss his forehead, before sitting back down again. "I know it's hard. My own parents… well. Everyone knows them, and it's hard reconciling that – and your respect for them – with the knowledge that they can make mistakes, the same as everyone else. The same as us." 

"You're right," Poe agrees. "Of course. But I'm going to have to wrap my head around it, especially because…"

The dossier. The dossier Leia gave him. Now would be the time to tell Kylo about that.

"…You remember what your mother said to me before we left..?"

One thing is for certain. It's going to complicate things.

But… it just might fix them, as well.


	8. Unknown Regions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, readers! We return with our next chapter, in which the boys arrive at Chikara... and promptly find themselves facing an unexpected but familiar problem.
> 
> And we're not talking about the weather..! ;-)

The journey to Chikara is a long one, and Poe is more than a little relieved – if also apprehensive – when the proximity alert sounds at last.

"Here we go…" he mutters, and disengages the hyperdrive.

The _Phoenix_ drops back into realspace on the night side of a planet, beyond which is a rather distant, blue-white star.

Poe works the sensors, as he puts the ship into high orbit. "I'm scanning the surface now," he says. "Need to get an idea of what's down there… OK… oh, that's going to make things problematic… Gravity's a little above standard, temperature looks to be the cool side of bearable, but the atmosphere is… OK, wow, we really don't want to go breathing that."

"Toxic?" Kylo leans over to look at the readouts. "Ah. That would explain why it's remained uninhabited, then. Fun. I haven't had to wear a rebreather in years. I hope the ones on this ship have been recently serviced?"

Because nothing is more fun than slowly suffocating on an alien world filled with Force-crystals, is it? He can even feel them, from orbit. 

"I made sure of it," Poe answers. "I wasn't going to come all this way and risk not being able to land because of the atmosphere. I just wish I hadn't been right…"

He looks over the scanner information some more. "I'm not detecting any liquid water. Certainly no signs of life. But there are some fairly significant geological features… huge mountain ranges… and I'm picking up a region that looks to be filled with crystal formations. So… looks like we made it."

"You know, if the crystals are neutrally aligned, it might well be a good place to bring future Force-users, future Knights. To get their sabre crystals." Kylo taps his fingers to his lips in thought. 

"All right. Anything else to know, other than the rebreathers?"

"There's a _lot_ of electrical activity in the wholly unbreathable atmosphere," Poe answers. "This is not a pleasant place to visit. We'll need to keep monitoring it whilst we're on the surface. We don't want to get caught in a huge storm…"

"Ah. Great. Well, I suppose if nothing else we know I can repel Force-lightning, so it probably works for real lightning, too. Shall we land close to the crystal area?" 

"I'll bring us in. There's an area where the crystal formations seem most dense… I should be able to find a suitable landing spot nearby. Hold tight… the atmospheric turbulence might be a little wild…"

And usually, Poe would enjoy it. But right now?

He has a bad feeling about this.

"Wild seems to be our middle names, Poe…" Kylo braces his feet on the floor, getting ready for the descent to the planet's surface. 

***

Despite the turbulence, they touch down on Chikara without any real difficulties, coming to a halt on a flat plain at the edge of the most prominent crystal formations. Poe puts the ship into low power mode and then looks to BB-8, as the little astro wheels closer.

"You should probably stay on board," he says to the droid. "If there's electrical activity out there, I don't want to put you in danger."

BB-8 bleeps that it is not the only one who would be at risk, looking up at Poe pointedly.

"Yeah, I know," the pilot concedes. "But I don't think I have a choice. We've got to find this thing. So… just stay put. You should be safe if you're inside the _Phoenix_."

Kylo fiddles with his rebreather unhappily. Those things always manage to pinch at his nose and ears, and they're never comfortable. He nods, echoing Poe's sentiment. "It's safer for us, BB-8. And you know I'll keep Poe as safe as I can."

The astromech bleeps in acknowledgement of this, telling Kylo to keep them _both_ safe. Poe, meanwhile, goes over to pull on his own rebreather, getting the mask in place and checking his oxygen supply.

"OK. I think we're good to go. You ready to see what's out there?"

A nod. "I am." Kylo fiddles with the comm unit again, making sure it's ready because it will be their only method – without the Bond – of talking to one another, and to the droid aboard the ship. "Let's go."

They step into the rear section of the ship and close the inner doors, protecting the rest of the shuttle from the harsh atmosphere, and then Poe hits the button to drop the main hatch, letting them finally step out.

Beyond the confines of the shuttle, Chikara is a truly alien place. They've landed on the day side of the planet, but the sun is distant enough that it feels close to twilit even with said sun high in the sky. Indeed, the sky itself is dark enough that some of the brighter, far-off stars are visible; pinpricks of light in the purplish haze.

Up ahead of them, spires of dark rock rise high into the air; the beginnings of a huge formation forming the foothills of a vast mountain range. Interspersed amidst the dark rock, they can make out large chunks of crystal. Some of it is set into the rock itself, whilst other segments form spires and outcrops in their own right, and all of it a kind of cloudy, milky-lilac colour.

The air feels cold, and a little abrasive where it hits exposed skin, as if the rough breeze is heavy with dust and sand. In the distance, bursts of lightning crackle across the clouds, spilling across the horizon and pouring gradually closer.

All in all? Not likely to make the galaxy's list of Top Ten Vacation Spots. Unless you really, _really_ enjoy geology. And yet, at the same time… it has a kind of raw beauty to it, hinted with undertones of some forgotten, slumbering power.

"This is… striking," Poe manages, staring out at it.

"It's… _alive_ …" Kylo is struck by that, more than anything else. There's no liquid water, no carbon-based life forms… nothing, save for the crystal outcroppings, and yet… the Force swirls around the planet, in and out of all the peaks, crests, troughs. It's alarming, and vibrant, and he can see why the Sith of Old came here.

"…can't you feel it?" He turns to look at Poe, and behind the mask, his eyes are bright. "It's so… _loud_."

"I can feel flickers of it, through the bond," Poe says, trying to concentrate on those little echoes, wondering what they must be like in Kylo's head, at full strength. "It's… strange."

He's sure it has a hostile edge to it, too, but he pushes that thought aside, hoping it's just paranoia.

Lightning bursts through the distant clouds, striking a far-off pillar, the thunder echoing among the rocks. "There's a lot of crystal here," the pilot goes on. "If the Eye of Chikara is as uniquely powerful as we've been led to believe, there must be something special about it, or… about where it formed. Revan said something about it existing at a _nexus_ in the Force. Can you sense anything that might point us in the right direction?"

Kylo closes his eyes, focuses on the other senses. The twirling lines and arcing paths through the Force. It's like a web, and there's a curling, a spiralling… and a gap. Where there should be something. Like a pattern with a scorch mark through it, raw and ugly.

"That way," he says, and starts off walking. "There's a gap."

Poe hurries after him, not wanting to get too far apart. Not quite trusting this place, or that low, distant edge of threat that he can't quite shake. They draw closer to a series of rock formations, interspersed with those crystal spires, and start heading deeper in.

Which is when Poe hears it. Footsteps. He's sure of it. He spins around, hand going to the weapon at his hip, but… there's nothing. But his heart is _racing_. Why – beyond the obvious – does this place make him so jumpy?

Kylo's stride is longer, his steps surer, as he goes into the valley of crystals. There's more colour here: some are softly sunset-red, others the colour of burnt ochre, or warm citrus. He walks through and there's that smell again, even through the rebreather. He's not sure where he remembers it from, but it makes the air thick and sweet. 

Probably just the rebreather. He feels something arcing, and he lifts a hand at a sudden jolt of energy above them. A crackling Force-field swells overhead, letting the lightning skitter sideways to ground into crystals to either side of them. "It's not much further, now…"

"Good," Poe says, now unable to stop looking over his shoulder. "That's… good. This place is _wrong_ , somehow…"

He keeps moving, following close behind, staring around at the crystal formations but keeping one hand on his blaster. For a few moments, there's nothing else out of the ordinary, and then…

A shout. Poe is sure it's a shout. He whirls around, weapon drawn, looking for the source of the voice… but there's still nothing in sight.

"Kylo," he says, carefully. "Tell me you heard that too…"

"Heard… what?" Kylo turns, and it takes a little too long to turn, but that's the gravity, right? It's heavier, here. Makes things slower, more ponderous. "What did you hear?"

His eyes flicker down to the blaster, currently pointed at him. Mistake, surely. You don't point weapons at other people without meaning it, obviously, in case of an accident. 

Poe lowers the weapon at once, staring at it, expression a mixture of alarmed and guilty. He remembers drawing it, but he can't recall the moment at which he turned and pointed it at Kylo. He certainly doesn't _want_ to be pointing it anywhere near him.

He looks rattled. "It was a shout. I couldn't make out words, but… I heard it, I know I did…"

"It… could be this place. If it's strong in the Force, perhaps it holds memories? Crystals have been known to do that, of course. It's why they're used for storage. And Force-powered crystals might well hold their own memories of people who came before?" Kylo can't think of any other reason that Poe would hear someone – or thing.

"The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get away. It's…" Kylo catches a reflection in one flat surface, and turns to see what he caught a glimpse of, surprised to find nothing behind him.

"I have a really, _really_ bad feeling about this…" Poe murmurs. His heart is racing, but he's sure something is making it that way; sure something is ratcheting up his emotional responses, his _fears_ …

He remembers what Revan said, on Korriban. That this planet would test them in ways they did not expect… or _did_. She'd said that last part whilst looking right at him, as if on some level, some part of him _knows_ what this is.

Testing. In ways they don't expect… or do… or…

Which is when Poe sees it. He doesn't know how, but he can't deny it all the same: there, off to the right, is a stone arch set into the rock, carvings all around it, leading deep into a cavern of some kind. And though it is here, he recognises it. He _knows it_.

It's one of the archways from Eigengrau. The entrance to the fifth and final test.

_The dark place_.

"…Fuck…" he breathes, taking a step back.

"Poe…" Kylo turns, walking over, grabbing his upper arm and holding it. "Poe… what's wrong? Please… talk to me?" 

He tries to reach out with the Force, but it's sort of murky, here. Like the amount of noise in the place makes it hard to pick out a conversation through the bassline of the concert. "Poe…?"

"Can't you _see_ it?" Poe gasps, now unable to take his eyes off what he, certainly, cannot _stop_ seeing. "It's right _there_ … Kylo… can't you see it?"

The hand on his arm grounds him a little, but he can't look away. It shouldn't be here. It shouldn't be here and it _is_ , and on some level he knows something about the place is affecting him, but on all other levels he is caught by the sight in front of him.

The world seems to flicker, to haze, and then Kylo can… oh. See. Something. It's like a yawning darkness, an emptiness. Not so much a lack of light, as something swallowing it whole, pulling it in. It doesn't stay so focussed in one place, and then there's a shimmer: a door. A door, aboard the _Decimator_ , one that fell down between them and…

Kylo grabs Poe's hand, and won't let go. " _Don't leave_." 

There's a lurch in Poe's chest, and he suddenly feels as though the bottom has dropped out of the world. His hand tightens on the weapon still held in his hand, though he's confident that, were he to thumb on the power, it would ignite into a red blade and not a blaster.

"I won't," he promises, and his voice is shaking. "I won't. Not ever."

Not _again_.

"…should we… should we go that way?" Kylo doesn't sound so sure, any more. Not the convinced man of only a short time ago, he's… shaken. Ill at ease. Confused. This place is seeping the heat from his bones, and the air crackles poisonously around their heads.

"Do you think we… have to?" 

Poe has no idea. But he knows what his instincts tell them. "No. No. We don't have to. We passed the test. We _won_. We don't ever have to go there again."

They don't. They don't ever have to see that door again. They blew it apart and burned it up in the atmosphere of a gas giant. No one ever has to see that door again, nor where it once led.

Deep breath. Deep, deep breath. _Focus_. The fear is still there, but something else is mixing in with it too. **Anger**. Anger, that anything would dare to intrude on _those_ memories. Poe's hand tightens on Kylo's. "We keep going. We can't give in to this."

"But why is it there, if we don't need to go inside..?" Kylo can't help but keep looking at it, to keep being drawn by the lines. It calls to him, a siren-song, low and needy. He can't help the steps that wander in that direction, the way he paces closer.

It's like an itch, and being told not to scratch. Or a sound you're told not to hear. It's impossible, once pointed out, to ignore. 

"It's a _trap_ ," Poe insists, still trying to convince himself as much as Kylo. "It's trying to lure us in. To lure us away from where we need to go. This place is messing with us… you said it yourself, said you could feel it _alive_ in the Force. What if it's fighting back? What if it doesn't want us here?"

None of these are good thoughts.

"What if it's trying to make you not want to go, but I can see through it?" Kylo asks, turning his head with some great reluctance. "It's powerful, there. And power means possibility. The Eye isn't Light or Dark, even if the Dark Side used it, it's just… powerful… it's… it's strength. But I want you to come with me, Poe. You're my strength, too. You're my balance…" 

"I don't want to go in there," Poe whispers. The image in front of him keeps flickering: sometimes the arch on Eigengrau, sometimes the door on the _Decimator_. Two places that lead to his darkest fears. The thoughts, the _memories_ , slide into his head, insidious and poisonous. "I can't. I…"

A voice, off to the side. Poe whirls around, trying to catch the source of it, but there's nothing there. Nothing. But he's sure, so sure, so sure he heard…

"We need to," Kylo wheedles, hating himself for even suggesting it. "We need to. It's – that's where we'll find out. That's where Danika will go. We have to stay one step ahead of her, Poe. We can't ignore the Dark in us, we… we need to embrace it… Don't make me go in there alone. I'm begging you, _come with me_ …" 

He just knows, with all he is, that it's in there. The answer. The answer, the power, the solution. It doesn't matter if it's Dark or not, because he's Sith. Dark is par for the course, and it pulls to his blood, to his core, to the Force inside of him, even as it terrifies him. "Bravery is doing the things you don't want to, but need to." 

Poe manages a nod. This place is doing things to his head, and he knows it, and he _can't stop it_ , and that is not a sensation he enjoys. Especially as it _is_ one he remembers.

"All right," he concedes, because how could he ever let Kylo go in there alone? "All right."

The shouting, again. But is it close by, or is it in his mind?

Fingers laced, knotted, and Kylo makes sure to hold as tight as he possibly can. "It's going to be okay. We have to do this – it's how we win. He's dead. He can't hurt us. He's **dead** , Poe. No matter what we see in there… you remember how to tell you're awake?" 

Are they awake? Are they awake, or are they still lying on the floor of the temple on Eigengrau? Is this real, or the insane fever dream of a mind sleeping deeper into unsalvageable insanity?

Poe bites his lip and nods. He has to focus. These thoughts in his head are trying to hold him back, and he can't let that happen.

"I remember. I remember. And I won't leave you."

Kylo reaches a hand out for the door, and it opens with a sigh. On the other side of the lintel is a full, heavy sky. As they step through, gravity changes, and so does time. It's long, long ago, and it's weird but that's a sensation as obvious as direction, or colour, or sound.

"This…" He spins, and looks at monolithic buildings, rising in the bed of trees. "…is Yavin 4?"

This is not what Poe expected, not at all, and an odd wave of relief hits him, mixed with a lingering sense that something is still very, very, wrong. But… it's hard not to smile just a little as he looks up, and around, feeling the familiar air of the place where he grew up.

"Yavin 4," he breathes, softly, in agreement. Perhaps even in greeting. He knows it can't be, not really, and yet…

"Your father?" Kylo asks, confused why they'd be here, otherwise. Even though it doesn't feel like now-now, it feels like then-now. He remembers the moon, though not as well as Poe does. 

His attention swings around, caught by the chattering noise of a child, almost-familiar, and a young boy who… "…you?" 

All Poe can do is stare, like he's seen a ghost. Or… an echo. The little boy in question, who cannot be more than five or six, is running around amidst the trees, holding his arms out and making what can only be described as 'spaceship noises'. He scrambles up onto a fallen trunk and leaps off, giving a little whoop in amidst the noises, clearly having a wonderful time.

"…Me," Poe whispers, still caught by the sight of his much younger self.

"Do you remember that?" Kylo asks, and holds him tighter, in case he fades away, or walks away. "I mean… there's no reason for you to, but is it… real, or is it imagined?" 

So young, so innocent. Rosy cheeked, and having an absolute blast. Kylo is stung with a thud of envy for him, of a sudden. 

"I… think it's real," Poe says, watching. _Remembering_. "This… I know this… I'm sure I do…"

The little boy leaps from the log again, landing in a roll in a pile of leaves. "Crash landing!" he shouts, sounding not at all unhappy about it. "I may not have my ship, but I still have my Jedi powers!" And he picks up a stick, waving it around like a lightsabre, chasing imaginary enemies between the trees.

"…That does _sound_ like me," his adult self concedes.

Kylo actually snorts. "You… oh. You did that, too?" For a moment, the Dark of the place fades, and Kylo tries to press closer to him. "With your green blade?" 

An almost shy little smile. "Yeah. I did. I wanted to be a pilot like my mom, but I also wanted to be a Jedi. Mom had told me the stories about the mission she went on with your uncle, when I was very small, and I couldn't imagine anything better. A pilot, and a Jedi."

Poe looks out at the tableau still playing out ahead of them. "But why are we seeing this?"

"I don't know. I…" Kylo turns, and there's a flicker of something. Just out of eyeline, but audible. Voices he recognises, and he tugs Poe away from his younger self.

There's a gaggle of adults, all talking. Younger people, from older selves. A General, and her Jedi brother. Serious men and women, talking big politics, and a young boy, tired and sullen. The little one can't be more than three, and his eyes already look like he's not slept in two of them. He pulls on Leia's hand, and is scooped up, but her conversation carries on around him, and the boy closes his eyes in resignation.

"…ah. Now, I don't know that it's true, but I can… accept it would be." 

"It's true," Poe murmurs, voice distant. He _does_ remember this. Remembers peering through the trees; remembers the thrill of excitement at seeing _Leia Organa_ and _Luke Skywalker_. The little boy close by does just that, edging cautiously around the side of one of the trees so he can watch the people a short way off.

Just for a second, a tiny second, the eyes of the young Poe Dameron meet those of the even younger Ben Organa-Solo.

Just for a second.

"…I always used to imagine you were lonely," the adult Poe says, his voice wavering a little now. "Sometimes I wished I could talk to you."

"I was." Kylo's voice is soft, barely there. "They were always so busy. It was important, so you couldn't get mad, but they were busy, and I was…" Of secondary importance. 

Little Ben – shy – squirms into his mother for comfort, gets a distant pat and a rub on the back for his efforts. He doesn't wriggle to be let down to play, because then no one will pay him any attention at all. The days of his novelty amongst the political elite have worn off, into the humdrum mundanity of having a small child. 

Threepio strides up – mechanical and awkward – and takes the boy from his mother.

"We moved. A lot. And… if it wasn't a political problem, then my father needed to be off on whatever he needed to do… but. That's over, now. I don't get why we're seeing it. Are we missing something?" 

"I still don't know," Poe admits. He holds Kylo's hand tighter, flickers of memory dancing here and there inside his head. "I mean… this is all real. It happened. It isn't some nightmare."

It hurts, though, in the strangest way; this knowledge that the two of them came so close, but never close enough. Poe wonders what would have happened if they'd met at a much younger age. Would it have changed things? Set them on a different path?

"Is it – is it the temples? Are we meant to go to Yavin 4? But surely Luke would have found something if there was anything to be found?" Kylo turns away, not wanting to look at his younger self any more. 

Only… only there's his mother, again. His mother, his father, and the whole central command team. They're in the command bunker on Tahanan, around the war table. A man who Kylo doesn't recognise, but who looks strikingly like Poe… only… only…

They're dead. All of them. Blaster and sabre wounds score through them, the acrid smell of burned flesh and fabric, and glossy eyes stare up at them and…

"Oh, Maker, no…" 

" _Fuck_ ," Poe breathes in horror, trying to make himself remember, trying to make himself see, _this is not real_. But… "…Kylo… what happened..? What… how..?"

His hand goes to his weapon again, wanting to draw it, wanting to find who did this and _make them pay_ , and the emotion surging through him is suddenly white-hot and _dark_.

"I don't know. This… hasn't happened yet. Maybe it won't. Maybe we can stop it…" He hopes they can stop it. The siren sounds in the distance, bleating to no ears but theirs, and Kylo wonders how long they've been dead.

He doesn't want to step closer, but he… has to. He slides a hand over his mother's eyes, frustrated when he can't make contact to close them. 

Poe can't move. His father is here, dead with the others. His father, who he is supposed to go to once they leave… where they are. What if this is real? What if it's a warning? What if he's going to drag his father back into the war and get him killed?

He falls down onto his knees at his father's side, staring at his face, blank and gone. He hasn't seen the man in months. Longer. He never thought the next time would be like this… never contemplated the possibility that…

Tears prick the corners of his eyes. "I won't let this happen. I won't. _Not on my watch_."

"Poe…" Kylo goes over to him, puts a hand on his shoulder, tries to console him. "It's not real. Not yet. It's what could be, but that doesn't mean it will. And even so… the things we saw last time? They weren't… they…" 

Kylo, astride a mighty empire. With a crystal, a weapon and a compass in his power… no. No. He shakes his head, trying to get it out of his mind. "Please, Poe. It isn't real. Maybe it's a warning, or another message we haven't worked out, yet."

Even though it could happen. The knowledge that it could makes his stomach turn over, roughly. "Keep… keep moving…" 

Poe does not want to keep moving. He has this low sense of dread, deep in his chest, and he's confident that, the further they go, the worse this will get. But _why_? Is it some sort of defence mechanism? Does this place just enjoy torturing people? Or… is it something more?

"All right," he whispers. "All right."

He staggers to his feet, still struggling to pull his eyes away from the scene in front of him, caught by the horror of it. By the _possibility_ of it.

Another door. Like the one they came in through, strangely standing on the side of one wall, like it belongs there. Kylo walks up to it, his stomach heavier with every step. It schhhinks open, and on the other side is – that room. _That room_ , or one just like it.

On the dais, in the centre, he sees himself. Unmasked, but dressed in fine blacks and peering down at the man below, dressed in subdued, dark colours himself.

"This isn't real," Kylo whispers, as other-him talks to other-Poe.

Poe goes cold as ice, his step actually faltering for a second. No. _No_. Not **this**. It isn't the scene he saw during the last test on Eigengrau, but the similarities are undeniable.

"Maker… no…" he breathes, reaching for Kylo's hand again. Needing something to ground him.

"Did you bring them?" the Kylo in the vision says, leaning down ever so slightly. "How many did you get?" 

"Seven," the vision-Poe replies. "But there will be more. I have people en route to at least half a dozen more of the systems you named, to round up as many of the Force-sensitive children as they can find. It won't be long now. And then… we can start training a _new_ army." His voice is rapt, almost fanatical. "The Knights of Eigengrau. An order whose name will last _forever_. Now that we have the Eye of Chikara, we are unstoppable."

"Bring them to me," Kylo says, his voice a purr of hunger. "I will make them stare into the Eye, and show them the power of the Darkness. They will kneel before us…" A tilt of his head. "Before **me**."

Kylo doesn't recognise the tone in other-him's voice. He doesn't. It sounds alien, and he feels… sick. Sick all the way inside. Sick to the core of him, and he staggers backwards, trying to find the wall. "No… no. We wouldn't… not _children_."

Poe – the real Poe – turns and puts a hand on Kylo's chest. "It's a lie," he insists, desperately. "A vision. A trick. Neither of us would do this. Neither of us would let our parents die. All of this is _lies_."

But the first part. That day on Yavin 4, long ago. That was real. A vision of the past, steeped in truth, followed by a vision of a possible future.

Just like Eigengrau.

"It isn't real," he says again, voice shaking. "It _isn't_."

"What if it is? What if it sends us mad?" Kylo looks to Poe, haunted and pale. "What if… what if this is what we're destined to be? We think it's good, but it isn't. We think it's right, but we break things all over again?"

And then, worse, "…what if Snoke thought what he was doing was the same?" 

"That _monster_ never tried to do good," Poe all but hisses, tone filled with sudden venom. "He was pure evil through and through. And as for us… we'll never become this. We won't let it happen. Neither of us would hurt a child. Neither of us would _ever_ let ourselves go down this path. It's a nightmare, not the truth."

If he says it enough times, maybe he'll believe it.

"Besides. We're trying to find the Eye to keep it from Danika. If it isn't safe to use, we don't use it."

But what if it isn't that easy? What if it pulls them in, corrupts them, makes them become… this? It was coveted by the Sith of Old, after all. That hardly suggests it's solely _good_.

"Is the weapon ready to wipe the planets we recruited from?" dream-Kylo asks. "To remind them the consequences of disobedience?" 

"It is ready, Master," dream-Poe replies. "After today… no one will question us. No one will question _you_."

The real Poe turns from the scene at once, unable to look any longer, and not willing to listen. He remembers that tone in his own voice, from the nightmare on Eigengrau, but in many ways this is worse.

It's worse… because, this time, he doesn't think he's being made to say it. He _wants_ it.

"This. Is not. Real." He has to believe it. He has to.

"How do we break through?" Kylo asks, his voice… lost. Lost and small, and he's dropped Poe's hand, somewhere along the way. He feels chilled to the bone, utterly shattered. "How do we get back to reality? This… you know this could really happen, don't you?" It could. 

Poe turns back to him at once, hands on his shoulders, trying to pull him away from the images in front of them. "No. No. This won't happen. Neither of us would let this happen, Kylo. Not you, not me. _Not ever_."

He can't keep the terror out of his voice, though. He just has to try to push past it.

"How do we _wake up_?" Kylo asks, again. "This isn't like Eigengrau. This isn't a test. This is just horrible things, sent to destroy us. There's no answer, there's no… way to break our chains in here…" 

"We keep going," Poe insists. "It's trying to frighten us away. Trying to make us turn back. Wherever we're headed… it doesn't want us to get there."

A defence mechanism? Or is this planet just flat-out hostile? Poe doesn't know, but he knows he has to hold onto the truth of it, rather than getting caught in the lies…

"Come on," he says, determined, taking Kylo's hand. "We keep going. We're _already_ free."

The other-thems are discussing payload, efficiency, recharge… and Kylo doesn't want to think about something like the Starkiller at his disposal. And him… wanting to use it. No. He nods, and holds tight onto Poe, and suddenly pushes off from the wall with long, long strides. 

As they get further away, Kylo shakes his head. Buzzing, buzzing voices. No. One voice, layered over and over itself, out of tempo, out of synch. It's – it's – "Snoke… he's… he's here… Poe, keep **moving**!"

Poe can hear it too, familiar and terrible, an ache in his head like long fingers pulling his mind apart, but he won't let this happen, he _won't_ , not again, not…

" _Run_ ," he gasps, and they do, as the shadow behind them seems to rise up, drawing closer, growing _darker_ , and…

A door. A door, like one that could have been on Eigengrau, but one that Poe knows exists only in his mind. The door that Maz Kanata showed him how to find; the door that leads to the light. He hurtles towards it, keeping Kylo close, and as they burst through the whole of reality seems to collapse inwards, as if caving in on itself, and they're both thrown to the floor of…

Poe stares up. The room is gone, the shadow is gone. They're outside, but he's confident this is not Chikara, confident it's still a vision.

But it's nowhere he's ever seen before. A planet, a desert planet, wrapped in the cloak of night. Overhead, a rich tapestry of stars glitter and glisten in the dark, chased back by the light of two moons, both glowing high above. They're standing on flat, sandy plains bordered by distant mountains and up ahead, towering high into the air, is a vast, ancient citadel made of stone, standing silent in the dimness.

"This… where are we?" Poe breathes, still cold from the previous vision, still unsure if they're safe or not, and at the same time suddenly calmer. He scrambles to his feet, offering Kylo a hand to help him up, staring around at where they now find themselves.

"I've never been here before," Kylo admits, as he looks around. "It's… nowhere I know. But…" He stares at the building, examining the lines, the curves.

"Is it me, or does that building look… Sith-y? Like, add a few statues to the outside and it could be Eigengrau, or Korriban?" He wonders what happened to their rebreathers, suddenly, and he realises _that's how he knows this is still a dream_. 

"It does," Poe agrees. "It… could it _be_ Korriban, or… no. No. It's somewhere else. It must be…"

He isn't sure what makes him think that. But… he does.

"Why are we here? Do you think… could this be where the Eye was taken? Revan said it was gone from Chikara went she went looking for it. Could it be… here… wherever here is?"

"It would make sense. Although… how do we tell where 'here' is? This could be any number of planets, and there's nothing identifying… we don't have BB-8 with us, or even any sensors, so how can we work out where we are?" Kylo huffs.

"And why does the Force love to fuck with our heads?"

Poe manages a wry smile. "I don't know, but it does."

The pilot looks out at the view again, at the moonlight playing over the building in front of them, as a light breeze ripples against him. He closes his eyes just for a moment, letting himself calm further, now they're away from those awful visions, and when he opens his eyes again… he's looking up.

"The stars," he murmurs. "If we can memorise anything about them, we might be able to program the information into a navicomputer, and get it to calculate possible locations. It wouldn't be easy… we'll never be able to remember enough… but we might be able to work it out eventually."

"…you really think a Force-vision memory of stars will work? If this is even… now?" Kylo frowns up, and tries to etch things in his memory. He draws patterns in the sky, tracing out constellations of his own making.

It's… not that easy, it turns out. Mostly they all look like blobs of paint, or pasta. Maybe he's hungry. "Worth a try, I suppose…"

"If this _isn't_ now, it likely won't work," Poe concedes. "If if is… it still might not, given that we'll have to do it from memory. But it also might be the only way to find this place."

He tries to memorise things too. Shapes, in the stars, focusing on those that are larger and might be easier to identify. The arc of a galaxy arm is visible, a more densely-concentrated section of sky, with a couple of bright clusters visible along it, and he tries to etch the shape of it, the layout, into his mind.

"We can also try to find out things about the building, if we make it that far. Do you think… that's the way out?" The Sith squints into the distance, trying to pick out details on the structure. "It's the only one visible. And… this planet doesn't look very habitable. I'd say it's bordering on uninhabitable… no real scrubbery, no… anything…" 

"We should certainly try to look inside that building, if we can," Poe agrees. "This place obviously wants us to see it. Maybe… there will be some further clue inside."

Hopefully no more awful visions. He doesn't want any of those. Ever again, if possible. He steps in closer to Kylo, and not because of the sudden coolness to the night-time air.

And, together, they set off towards the mysterious structure, in search of the answers still eluding them.


	9. Avoidance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back! Today we bring you Chapter Nine, aka Part Two of the Chikara Sequence, in which the boys' vision quest comes to its dramatic conclusion.
> 
> Trigger warnings for blood and some graphic imagery.
> 
> And plenty more foreshadowing... ;-)

Still deep within the hallucination, or vision, or whatever this is, the two men walk out towards the distant, mysterious building. Overhead, the tapestry of stars glitters in the darkness, the glow of the two moons lighting their way.

It's so very quiet. The rustle of the breeze, and their footsteps, are the only sounds to cut the air, and Poe isn't quite sure whether he thinks the silence is eerie or just… _silent_.

The walk seems like it should be a long one, but it isn't. Or… it doesn't feel like it. When they draw near to the huge, blocky arch leading into the building, Poe stares up at it, hoping for some clue as to where it is, in reality. But there's nothing to give it away.

Something isn't right, though. Poe can feel it again, though he doesn't know why, or what it is. Something is… wrong.

Side by side, they pace through the arch and into the wide open courtyard beyond: a courtyard bathed in moonlight. Bathed and glittering a deep and terrible red, utterly drenched in…

"… _Blood_ ," Poe whispers, as the horror of it sets in. "This is _blood_."

"…it can't be," Kylo says, even though he knows it to be true. It wouldn't be practical. Or sensible. Or even very easy to do, but it could just be the planet messing with their senses, right?

In the harsh air, the coppery smell is only faint, and it's more a sense of goopy, claggy, cloying tactility, combined with the dull steal of every colour but red-black. "This is disgusting. It can't be real, surely? And how – who died for this? Do they just… keep pouring more in?" 

"I don't think I want to know," Poe manages. On one level it's horrifying to stare at this, to be assailed – even subtly – by the scent, by the sense of _weight_ … and, on another level, it is so completely _excessive_ that he feels almost removed from it. "What is this even supposed to mean?"

He paces a little further in, staring around at it, and up, at high stone walls that seem to be coated in blood right up to the parapets. There are passageways leading off from that central courtyard in several directions, but he suddenly has no desire to see where they lead.

In case it's worse.

"…death, I presume. Death, or… a warning? Or…" Kylo shudders. "It's disgusting, whatever it is. Perhaps it's trying to ward us off, again, to keep us back with… well. Common taste and decency?"

Because who really wants to walk through a courtyard of blood? Not Kylo Organa-Solo, for one. "Do we keep pushing in?"

Poe looks at the passageway leading directly onwards. "I guess we have to. Though I wish we didn't…"

It really doesn't help that the passageway in question seems to lead inside as well as onwards, and that means being in an enclosed space with all this blood, rather than an open courtyard. "You do take me to some _charming_ places."

This being the second worst. No prizes for guessing the first.

"Would you like me to carry you over the… uh… mess?" Kylo offers, trying to reject the rising of his gorge. He really doesn't want to think about it under his f-- nope. Seriously. Stop thinking.

"Might as well save one of us the… discomfort." 

On one level, Poe would. But solidarity makes him shake his head. "No. I'm… I'll be fine."

He'd be more fine if they didn't have to go _further_ into this. But they do, and they stay close together as they move towards the passageway in question. It's at least a half-metre taller than Kylo, but given that there's blood on the _ceiling_ , too, this doesn't help as much as it could.

"This had better be in aid of something…" Poe murmurs. He's still trying not to think about it in any real depth. Trying to see it as insane and overblown and unreal, rather than as graphic as it is.

But it's getting harder.

"I'm hoping we'll see where the Eye is. And what it looks like, other than 'giant crystal'. Maybe some helpful 'You are here' maps in the same room, like… a Sith calling card?" It would be too much to ask, Kylo knows. But still.

Schhhlick, schhhhhlick, schhhhhhhhlick. Feet through the viscous liquid, sticking to their boots, trying to swallow them slowly whole. "This… I could have lived without. I really hope Revan never had any blood rooms. And I certainly won't have any. Maybe 'small displays of cookies' rooms?" No, don't think about food right now, and he has to fight not to retch.

At the end of the passageway is a door. It's shut, and their ability to touch things seems to wax and wane, but Kylo reaches out regardless and hisses when the plane bites him with a knife, drawing blood of his to join the masses. He wipes his hand fastidiously on his robes, utterly disgusted as the door swings open. 

"Are you OK?" Poe asks at once, putting a hand on his shoulder. They both have blood on them now – even trying not to make contact with things somehow doesn't stop them picking traces of it up.

"Yes. Apparently there isn't enough blood here already," Kylo snarks. "But it's just a minor cut. I'd be more worried about the chance for infection if this were real…"

Beyond the open door is a wide, internal chamber. It's a little higher than the passage they've been in, but it still feels restrictive, and claustrophobic. Although maybe the blood is a part of that. This room, too, is drenched in it, perhaps even more so.

There's something else, though. In the centre of the room is a huge, vivid-red crystal, which glows with a light of its own – red on red, making it feel even more hostile. The crystal is huge: as long as an X-Wing and at least as tall, begging the question of how it got in here – and leaving the distinct possibility that the room was built _around_ it.

"…Fuck," Poe breathes. "I think that's it. I think that's the Eye of Chikara."

"Well, if it isn't, then I want to know what the hell is going on with two massive crystals," Kylo says, with a roll of his eyes. Not because he's annoyed with Poe, but with this whole song and dance. He paces closer, examining it.

"…and doesn't it look like it could just destroy half the galaxy? No wonder Danika wants it. For every reason. I bet Hux can't wait, either." 

"I imagine not," Poe agrees, wryly, staring at the thing. Already not at all fond of it. "I don't even want to think about the size of the superlaser you could make from it. We have to find it in the real world before they do. We _have_ to."

He moves in closer too, half of him wanting to touch the crystal's surface, and half wanting to stay far away. "I know this is a vision, but… can you sense anything from it?"

"It feels…" A frown. "Old. Old and… slumbering. Like it knows so much, has seen so much, and is waiting for someone to make contact with it. Like it's vibrating with the knowledge and power, wanting to touch someone, and--"

His fingers are almost against it, and Kylo startles. "It's calling to me." 

Poe feels his breath catch. "…In a good way?" he asks, confident he knows the answer. Confident he doesn't like it one bit.

The air seems to be going cold, and heavy, the tang of blood growing stronger.

"We're in a room filled with blood, in a dream filled with pain, standing by a crystal capable of mass genocide… do you really think this could be good?" Brows arch down at the shorter man. "And still: I think I need to touch it." 

"Is that wise?" Poe asks, colder and colder with every second, like a blanket of frost and dread is creeping over him. "What if it affects you?"

What if this is what it wants, what it does? Lures you in, poisons you with fear, and then traps you at its heart, like some huge, psychic pitcher-plant?

"Do you see another way out of here? It's brought us here, through the fear. It's what we need to find. It's… a dream. Not the real thing. If the real thing can affect me from so far away, then touching it wouldn't be necessary. I'd already be under its sway." And that's something he doesn't want to think about, not one bit.

Neither does Poe. Because what if it _is_? What if it has affected them _both_?

But… they have to know. "All right," Poe answers. "Just… just be careful." What else can he say?

They have to know.

Kylo tries not to say something rude in response, he really fights the impulse. There's no such thing as 'careful' around powerful, menacing Force-relics. Kylo takes a breath and glances his fingers and: _a flash, too fast to understand. Images of lifeless eyes, of bolts of light, of electric servo-whirring, of a Senate-hall in flames, of fallen buildings, broken bodies, a hungry ship and--_

Kylo gasps, pulling his hand back and feeling the acrid taste of the rebreather sealed around his mouth. He turns to Poe, before he even looks to see that they have, in fact, _moved_. 

Poe jumps as the illusion dissipates in a second; the terrible room of blood falling away to reveal where they really are. The place they're standing is inside a cave of some sort, though it is – mercifully – devoid of blood. He can hear distant lightning, but it's the only audible sound, perhaps because of where they now are.

And… then there's that. The cave they're in is high and a little too rounded to be completely natural. It is filled with small crystals, set into the walls and floor, jutting out of the rock. At its centre, however, is a huge void where something – evidently another crystal – once was, leaving only rough stone and tantalising promise.

"I think we found it," Poe says. "Or… didn't, technically."

This must be where the Eye of Chikara formed… and from where it was taken, very long ago.

"We found its birthplace, I suppose. And… well. I suspect that means the vision we had is of where it got taken to. We knew it wouldn't be here, anyway…" Kylo is still shaken by the images, the sense-memory of before. 

He paces closer, toeing one boot over the place where the crystal had been. "It looks about the right size hole, too. I wonder how they got it out of here? The Force?" 

"I would imagine so," Poe agrees. "I guess it'd take someone pretty powerful to move it… but that's probably a given, considering what the thing is. I wish we had some clearer idea as to where it was taken, though."

Said place had better not _actually_ be drenched in blood. It may only have been a hallucination, but Poe still feels like he needs a shower. Or six.

"Well, can you remember some of the details of the sky? I've got a few things I managed to set in stone… forgive the turn of phrase." Considering the stones they've just been around. "We should get readouts and maybe samples from this room, then get the details down while they're still fresh in our minds." Under all the blood. Kylo is also glad there's none, here. 

Poe nods. "I think so. It won't be easy to get a navicomputer to triangulate the position of that planet, but… given time, it might work." It's a long shot. But it may be the best one they have.

And then he nods. "Agreed. You think we should take some of the smaller crystals with us?"

Kylo looks at them. "Only small ones. I don't want to risk any real… well. Repeat of what we've had so far. The crystal isn't even here and it affected us. Or… these did. So… small samples, and nothing more." 

This definitely seems like a good move. Poe locates a few that are loose and easy to pick up – most are still set firmly into the rock – and pockets them. They feel odd when he touches them: a little warm, and somehow heavier than suggested by their size.

"You think there's anything else we need to do here?" he asks. Unable to shake the lingering sense of unease in his mind.

"Other than: 'leave right now'? It's unpleasant in the extreme. There won't be any kind of forensic evidence of where the ship went, not this many thousands of years later. We'll just have to hope the visions and those fragments will tell us enough." Kylo has no desire to ever come back here, after all. He still feels cold down to his core. 

"I think we should leave. Now. I'm serious about that, there's no good comes from staying somewhere this unpleasant." 

The other man's tone takes Poe a little by surprise – even given the circumstances – and he nods, carefully. "All right," he says.

Some odd part of him wants to stay. Why does he want to stay? The planet is hostile, the air unbreathable, and the crystals here are evidently capable of creating terrible, shared hallucinations.

No one in their right mind would want to stay.

But…

"…Come on. And let's hope the way back is easier."

Kylo struggles to brush his mind against Poe's in reassurance, through the fuzz and haze of the crystals' aura, and huffs when he mostly ends up feeling lost all over again. Instead he glances fingers over the back of Poe's wrist, and cocks his head back the way they came.

"Get BB-8 to turn up the heat, ready, maybe. I could do with thawing out on our way to Yavin. How long is the journey?" 

"Roughly as long as the journey here," Poe answers, trying to visualise the navicomp map in his mind. "When we head back to Tahanan from Yavin, we'll essentially have drawn a triangular flightpath across most of the galaxy."

A _long_ way.

"I can think of better ways to warm you up," he adds, with a grin.

"You will need to ask BB-8 to get working on triangulating out dream co-ordinates if you want to do that," Kylo replies. He's not… well. In the best of moods, but possibly some alone time with Poe in safety will help with that. 

Poe looks somewhat crestfallen. "All right," he says, again. "Well. It will take me a while to draw the stars out for him anyway. I have a decent memory, but it's not an easy thing to recall and even a few minor mistakes could throw us off course by dozens of sectors."

He nods towards the exit to the cave, the one they obviously walked down whilst still in the hallucination, very much hoping they don't have to go through any more of _those_. "Shall we?"

A hand on the small of his back, trying to connect, even as they set off. "I'm not averse to it, I'm saying we've got the perfect excuse to keep him occupied. And this place… it's… it's in my bones. I just need to thaw it out, is all." 

The memory of a throneroom, of death and life-stealing still makes even Kylo's tongue taste bad. "It's just… it will take a little time to wake fully up from. But it will be okay. It always is." 

Poe feels cold too. But… it's more than that. He feels something else, as well. Some strange, distant sense of _possibility_ , like a shadow through thick mist.

He puts a hand in his pocket without even thinking about it, fingertips brushing against the crystal fragments he's carrying.

Yes. It will be OK.

***

Mercifully, the walk back is a simple, if rather long trek through the cavern passageway, and no more hallucinations rise to assail them. As they draw close to the exit, they can hear the sparking lightning outside, louder than before, and the sound of one of the bolts striking ground.

"Charming weather they have here," Poe says, very dryly. "I hope we can make it back to the ship before that storm is right on top of us."

"I can deflect it, I think, but I'd rather not fight off a whole storm. There's brave and then there's foolish." Kylo has no need to prove his skill with lightning to anyone, not any more. To tempt fate would be ridiculous, right now. 

He has to modify his stride a little, not going at his full, brisk pace because his husband is less leggy than he is. "I will be happy when we get back to civilisation, even on somewhere as quiet as Yavin 4." 

"Seconded," Poe agrees. "Though, as things stand, even somewhere with a breathable atmosphere would be good enough."

Plus, he's still trying not to think about going back to Yavin. Or… no. He's happy about the prospect of seeing the place again. He is. He just doesn't know how things are going to go with his father.

They step out of the cave, the harsh, abrasive air beyond hitting them all at once. The wind has strengthened as the storm rushes closer, and it's not exactly pleasant. Poe instinctively picks up the pace, heading back the way they came.

The _Phoenix_ sits waiting for them, an angry frown of black on the horizon, and by the time they get back, the air is buffeting them hard. The sky is thick with the potential for fury, and Kylo flings more than a few bolts off to one side as they get closer.

The gangplank isn't down, due to all the atmospheric problems, and Kylo pins Poe to the hull as a Human shield as he yells for BB-8 to let them back in. 

Within a few seconds, the rear hatch opens, and they waste no time hurrying inside. They have to wait in the aft compartment until the hatch has thunked shut again, allowing Poe to purge the atmosphere and flood the room with something rather more breathable.

Only then does he pull his mask off. "That was unpleasant," he remarks.

The inner door swishes open and BB-8 comes rolling through, circling around them in concern and bumping up against their heels.

"We're fine," Poe insists, resting a hand on the astro's chassis. "Seriously, we're fine."

BB-8's sensors flicker over them, making sure it isn't a Basic turn of phrase, or an avoidance, but the check satisfies it that they're okay. Physically, anyway. 

"Have you got time to run a triangulation for us?" Kylo asks the droid. "We both took a long look at a starscape, and we think it might be possible to pinpoint the system we were on, if you can backtrace the sky?"

The astromech beeps in confirmation, whirring back and forth between their faces. 

"I want to get us off this planet first," Poe says, unable to ignore the sound of the lightning roaring closer. "Once we're in hyperspace, then we can try to get a star map drawn."

He heads up to the cockpit at once, taking his seat and powering systems up. And… punching the co-ordinates for Yavin into the navicomp. He doesn't have to look these ones up, knowing them by heart.

How could he not?

Through the cockpit window, he can see lightning splitting the sky; arcs of blue and lilac dancing back and forth. It is not going to be fun to take off in. Well… it is, and it isn't.

(It sort of is.)

The Sith and the droid follow to the cockpit, and BB-8 points out that it needs to hold on if it's going to be bumpy. Kylo holds his hands out, and BB-8 consents with a nod. 

Up goes the astromech into Kylo's waiting arms, and he cuddles him in close as Poe starts their take-off. 

"It wasn't very nice, no," Kylo answers the droid. "And the crystal that's missing is very large. I wonder if it was even larger than those in Starkiller, though it was also very slender." 

"Hold tight," Poe says, bringing them up off the surface and starting their arc upwards. You can't do it particularly tight in an Upsilon-class – not like an X-Wing – but he still banks as sharply as he dares, wanting them up and over the storm as soon as possible.

The ship shakes as the turbulence hits, making everything rock violently, lightning lancing around them as they go. A bolt heads straight for them, but Poe has the deflector shields angled in time, and it bounces harmlessly away without making contact.

The roaring and the thundering all around them seems to go on for far too long, hostile and threatening, and then, all of a sudden, they come through it and everything goes still.

Poe gives a sigh of relief. "That was fun."

Kylo does not look a good colour. He's a reasonable passenger, but it's still a little too much when the ship dances about so much. He swallows, and pats BB-8 before putting him down. "I'm glad you did that, and not me."

The astro makes a snorting noise, and then goes over to purr at Poe's ankle. 

"Traitor," Kylo tells him. 

"Awww, he loves you really," Poe insists, reaching to pat BB-8 again once he dares take a hand off the controls.

By now, they're soaring up out of the atmosphere, swathed in the dark of space. Poe stares at the navicomp for a moment; at those familiar co-ordinates.

Anywhere is better than here.

An easy command, a rush of movement and light, and they burst forward into hyperspace.

BB-8 insists it is possible to serve two masters, and that it does appreciate them both, and whirs back over to Kylo to peer up at him.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, small ball," Kylo says, even if he sounds very fond when he does so. "Everything okay?" he asks Poe, next. 

"Yes," Poe insists. "Now we're away from that planet… yes."

He still feels odd, but he's sure it's just the lingering echoes of what they saw. Which is wholly understandable, and…

…and yet…

"Poe?" Kylo frowns. "…what is it? It's not… where we're going, is it?" 

He really hopes not. He knows how hard facing his own mother was, but Poe hasn't done anything like Kylo had. 

"No," Poe answers. "I mean… I'm a little nervous. I haven't been home in too long and rather a lot has happened since I last spoke to my dad. It's…" something else. Something he can't pin down.

"…I'm sure it's nothing. Probably just what happened to us back there. What we saw."

"Do you want to talk about it, or do you need some time to… process?" Kylo can understand both impulses. Before he met Poe, he'd not really discussed things, not properly. And maybe he's not the best at doing it, but he still wants to try. Especially if it helps his husband. 

"I think… I need some time to process," Poe answers. If nothing else, he doesn't even know _what_ he would discuss if he tried. It's just a feeling. "But I'm sure it's nothing. We're away, and I think we have what we came for, and that's what matters."

A slow, slow nod. "Okay. Whatever you think is best." Maybe he does need space, or maybe not. At least he's opened the door to discussion, so… 

"Should we tell BB-8 what we remember seeing?"

Poe nods. "That would be sensible. Before we forget the fine details."

And so they work on drawing out the star maps as best they can. It isn't easy, given that they're trying to recreate an alien starscape from memory, having only seen it for a short time, but it helps that there are at least two of them, so their transcriptions can be cross-referenced.

Then they program the images into BB-8's memory bank, and the little astro sets to work on them. It's going to take time – a _long_ time – to cross-check the images against each other, come up with a workable whole, and then try to triangulate where it could be, based on current star maps.

Once they're done – and perhaps sensing that the two of them need time alone – BB-8 announces that it's going to go off and process data for a while, and rolls out of the cockpit, door swishing shut again in its wake.

Kylo holds a hand out, and then goes back to his seat, tugging Poe to sit sideways across his lap. Even if it's just close contact, he needs and craves it, right now. The cold doesn't seem want to leave his core. 

"Should we discuss how we introduce me to your father, or were you just going to… wait. Does he know we're married, or even that we were dating?" 

"He knows," Poe answers, softly. The contact helps, but he still feels… off, somehow. "I haven't spoken to him on the comm since…" he cringes a little, "…since before Jakku, but I have sent him a written message. He knows about us. About you. He knows we're married."

Or, Poe _thinks_ he knows, at least. The truth of the matter is that he never got a reply to his last message – the one in which he explained, albeit briefly, everything about Jakku and Eigengrau, Starkiller and Zekkan, and Kylo. He has no reason to suspect something has happened to his father – there are people on Yavin 4 who would be in touch if so – which means it's the other thing.

His father has _chosen_ not to reply. Although, given Poe's own lack of verbosity when it comes to their communications, he supposes he has no room to argue.

"What did he say?" Kylo asks, arm around his waist, the other on his knee, just keeping him huddled close against him. "Does he… he doesn't have an issue with you liking other men, does he? Or is it because I'm a Sith? Because I can see how that might be problematic for a lot of people…"

Including, until recently, his own family. Although he only recently actually became a real Sith, and even then it's not the traditional route. 

Poe can't quite make eye-contact. "He…" _fuck_ , "…didn't answer my message. He knows I like other men – _that_ certainly isn't an issue. It never was. He worked it out earlier than I did, and I worked it out pretty early. The Sith-thing might be more of a problem… I mean, before Eigengrau, it had certain negative connotations. Though you will at least get points for having left the First Order and joined the Resistance. Plus you're the son of _Leia Organa_ and _Han Solo_ , both of whom he followed and admired for many years. Once he reassures himself that you're not evil, I think he'll be fine with you."

It's me who's going to be the issue.

Dark eyes flash with an unpleasant anger. "Poe… do I need to punch your father for ignoring you? Because I seem to recall you offering – threatening, same difference – to do the same for me. I… know it can be hard if your parents don't respect you, or understand you, or trust your choices… but if he doesn't? He's the one missing out, not you. You have me, and my family, and your squadron, and the whole damn Resistance at your back. You do _not_ need to change for him." 

"No," Poe insists. "No, this… this is my fault. I shut him out. I should have called more. Should have _gone home_ more. I…" He sighs. "I told you, he thinks I'm going to get myself killed fighting for the Resistance. He's scared everything he and my mother fought for was for nothing – that she _died_ for nothing – and that the same is going to happen to me. But I should have tried to prove him wrong. I should have shown him all the good we're doing. I should… I…"

Deep breath. "Losing my mom broke him in half. It broke him in half, and I was too young to fix him. And that wound… it never got better. Not really."

Kylo doesn't care about propriety, he just pulls Poe's head under his chin and wraps his arms around him, tight and sure. He squeezes, and then keeps that grip in place. "Let's show him the good, then. Let him see what's worth fighting for. He has to understand, when he sees what good you've done. When you tell him how many lives you've saved… you're a damn hero, Poe Dameron. A hero."

And not just for saving him. Everyone the Starkiller could have blown up owes their lives to Poe, and so do all those that Snoke could have hurt. Kylo is certain about this, as certain as he ever remembers being. 

Poe still wants to brush the compliment off, but he doesn't – not out loud – and merely nods. He knows he's done a lot of good. A great deal of it, and so much in a relatively short space of time. But… it's hard to see himself as a hero. He was just doing what needed to be done. What _had_ to be done, for what he believes, for the people he cares about.

"I have to make this right, Kylo," he breathes, softly. "He's my father, and I love him, and he raised me alone after Mom died, and… so much of what I am, I owe to him. I have to make this right…"

He can feel the weight of his own mistakes now. He's buried it under duty and priorities and missions and everything else he could find for so long, but it's never really gone away.

"That's what we'll do," Kylo insists. "You saved me, so this – your father – this is easy, in comparison." No, it isn't, but he's trying to be reassuring and helpful. He's not very experienced at it. Poe is the one who does the big, moving, dramatic speeches.

Kylo just has the height for it. "He loves you. He loves you, and that will mean it works, no matter what. And I'll be there, holding your hand, or walking out of the room if you need to do it without me there." 

Poe puts a hand on Kylo's chest. "I need you there. I always need you there. Don't ever doubt that."

A pause. A deep, slow breath. "I'm sorry if I was… weird… back on Chikara. It… Something about the place was so… I can't even describe it. But it wasn't right. It wasn't. And I'm just glad we're away from it now."

"I think it's designed – or, uh – grown like that. I think… that it affects everyone, Poe. That's why the Sith were so focussed on the crystal. Why both Darths Revan and Bane wanted it. It's… likely called to many of us, over the years. And don't forget…" nose under his ear. "You're a Sith, too." 

"Yeah, but I'm not Force-sensitive. It must be able to affect people regardless. Or maybe it was the Bond – like with the Force-ghosts – or…"

None of it fully makes sense. "I felt… this strange sense of potential. Like there was something just out of my grip; something I needed to find and take hold of. Something… powerful."

"…you could try to meditate on it?" Kylo suggests. "It might work, for you. If you can focus on that feeling, the Force might… I don't know… show you? Maybe through me, or…" 

He isn't even sure if it's possible or not, but then Poe and Finn had seen Darth Revan, and most of the Jedi and Sith lore has been lost to the mists of time, anyway. Who knows what can, and can't happen?

"When did it hit you? Or was it always there?" 

"I think it was there the whole time we were on the surface," Poe answers. "But it didn't _hit me_ until the hallucination faded and we were in that cavern full of crystals. And then…"

He tries to focus on the lingering flickers of the feeling, at the back of his mind, but it's like trying to catch hold of a shadow, never quite where he thinks it is.

"…I don't know. None of this makes any sense to me, not really. But I can try to meditate on it, if you think it could help."

"Well, meditation helps Rey, and maybe me a bit, but… I'm not exactly the poster child for introspection. Or calm. Or quiet. But if it helps you work through whatever the cavern was trying to tell you…" Kylo chews his lip, thoughtfully. 

"Do you want to try… now? Or maybe when we're at home and you know you're safer?" 

"I'm safe now," Poe answers, with a little, genuine smile. "I always feel safe in hyperspace. And I'm with you. So… we can try now."

"All right. You need to be sitting comfortably… is that here, or in your chair, or… somewhere else?" 

"I… always associate it with sitting cross-legged on the floor," Poe says. "Would that… help?"

"If it gets your mind in the right space, you do whatever you need." Kylo suddenly wishes he'd been better able to pay attention to these, specific lessons. "Get comfortable, so you can step away from physical sensation, or move into… how the ship… vibrates?" Or something. 

Poe nods and does as he's instructed, slipping slowly – lingeringly – out of Kylo's lap and moving into the open space behind the cockpit seats, dropping easily down and sitting cross-legged. He lets his body sink into the position, gradually relaxing as he settles, physically and mentally.

"The shards… take one of them in your hand? It might help you focus on the thread that's affecting you. Hold onto it, and try to let your mind open up to the possibilities, the… future…" Really this is not Kylo's forte. 

And Poe's hand seems somehow to be drifting towards his pocket before Kylo even speaks. He moves a little faster once the words are out in the world, pulling the largest of the shards free and holding it in front of him. It feels… _right_ , there, in a way he can't put into words.

For a moment, his eyes follow the lines of the crystal, sharp and precise, watching as the reddish-purple hue glitters in the artificial lights of the cockpit. And then… then he closes his eyes, trying to concentrate on the object in his hand, and the strange feelings in the haze at the back of his mind.

Kylo wonders if he's supposed to meditate, too. After all, though the crystal has its own resonance and energy, it could be that Poe is sensing it through him. No one really knows enough about bonds – or doesn't anymore, anyway – to explain this for them. He's… hah. He's the galaxy's foremost specialist, with Rey a close second. It is less uplifting and more terrifying to be the best at something, now it's real.

"Feel for… how it… how it feels in your hand. The weight, the shape, and let your mind drift like it does before you go to sleep… don't think hard, just… let things happen…" 

Poe's thumb traces slowly along the edge of the crystal, feeling it, how sharp it is, like the edge of a blade, and he…

_…a flash, inside his mind, just for the barest instant. A sky full of stars, glittering over dark, distant spires…_

He jumps, a quick intake of breath, trying to hold onto the sensation, the image, even as it flitters away from him as fast as it appears, swirling back into the ether.

"…was… that it?" Kylo asks, blinking at the half-remembered, distant, other-mind image. "Was that what you felt, before?" 

Not that it makes too much sense, not yet. It fades from memory as quickly as it sprang in.

"No," Poe answers. "No… it was… it was something else… something… _deeper_ …"

He wants to find it again. He _needs_ to find it again. The pilot closes his eyes tighter, trying to push through the thoughts in his own mind, trying to catch onto the way it had felt before, back in the cave. That lingering sense of _possibility_ … of…

_…more. Flashes that come so fast, he can't focus on them. A fleet of ships. A banner. A sudden, bright burst of green light… and something else, something more, something… he…_

_**…he could take on the galaxy…** _

Shock shoots through Poe like a sudden burst of adrenaline, and he drops the crystal shard, scrambling back away from it, breathing like he's just been running flat-out.

"That was… _what the fuck..?_ " he manages.

"I… think that was a Force-vision," Kylo says, sounding breathless and shocked, too. "I've never really had one. But I know they – I know they happen, because that's how Uncle Luke knew to go to Cloud City." 

His heart is pounding, and Kylo's hands flex. "What… did it look like to you? What do you think you saw?"

Poe can't stop shaking, and all of his instincts cry out for him to stay away from the crystal shard… even as he's reaching to pick it up again. "I don't know," he says, trying to pull the images back to the forefront of his mind. "It was… it was like I…"

Like he could do so much. Be so much. _Change so much_.

"…it all still feels like _possibility_. Like… it wants me to do something, or be something, or…"

Another shiver.

"It's… probably a good idea to give those shards to BB-8, for now? He can store them, until we can get the Resistance techs to really analyse them?" Because Kylo isn't wholly sure the vision is a good thing, right now. 

If just a few shards can do this, what will the Eye be capable of, he wonders?

"Uh… yeah, yeah, I think you're right," Poe agrees, mind still somewhat hazy. He calls out to BB-8, and within a moment the little astromech wheels in, bleeping in confusion, not having expected to be interrupted so soon.

"I just need you to look after these for me," he tells the droid, and BB-8 opens up a central compartment in its chassis for Poe to put the crystal shards into. "Might be best to keep those out of sight until we can work out what they're capable of."

BB-8 gives an easy chitter of agreement, and bumps up against him.

"Me? I'm fine," Poe insists. "Really."

"I'll keep an eye on him," Kylo reassures the astromech. "Especially as I think we're going to cut out of hyperspace soon, no?" 

A glance at the panel says likely _yes_.


	10. Why We Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! We return once again, and today we bring you the long-awaited appearance of a very important character. And, in turn, a very long-overdue meeting...

Yavin.

The great red gas giant hangs in space, glittering and mysterious and imposing, as the _Phoenix_ drops back to sublight. Poe stares out at it through the cockpit window, eyes following the bands of colour in the upper atmosphere, always there and yet ever-changing. For a moment, he just sits, almost captivated by the sight of it, full of history and memory, and then he lays in a course to bring them closer, and around, to the outermost of the planet's four moons.

And there it is. Yavin 4. Once the home of the Massassi warriors – destroyed by the Sith of Old, millennia ago – and, more recently, once the home of the Rebel Alliance, the jungle-covered moon spins slowly in orbit of its vast, imposing master. Seeing it for the first time in so long, Poe still isn't quite sure what to feel.

But despite it all… there really is only one thing he _does_ feel.

He feels like a man coming home.

"There it is," he says, softly.

"Just like you remember?" Kylo asks. His tone is gentle, considerate. He hasn't had the same sense of 'home', but he knows how it feels to come back to things you recognise, even if it's mobility and the smell of engines and droids. 

"Just like I remember," Poe replies. "My dad's place is a little distance out from the Massassi Settlement. I'll bring us in there, and we can go the rest of the way on foot. I doubt I'd be able to land the _Phoenix_ out in the forest."

Plus, several of the other homesteaders would have a fit if he tried. Upsilon-class shuttles are notably _ominous_ craft.

They swoop down over the jungle moon. Yavin 4 is still sparsely-populated, but the Massassi Settlement is growing steadily – the connections to the days of the Rebellion impossible to ignore – and it seems bigger to Poe as they head in close, dotted with buildings he doesn't recognise.

"This place is springing up fast," he mutters, as they come in to land at the main spaceport on the edge of the settlement.

"I only came when I was younger, but even I can tell that," Kylo says. He stares out, and it feels – well. Familiar in that way that all Rebellion-cum-Resistance places do. There's an air to them, something uniquely 'no matter what' about them.

A flash of memory, of paths that didn't come close enough to cross. "I wish we'd been here more often. Back then. Although I was younger than you, it wouldn't have been cool for you to spend time with me, then…" 

"I wanted to," Poe says, suddenly. "I knew who you were, after all. Everyone did. I… used to wonder if you were lonely."

Perhaps he'd understood more than he realised at the time, in the way only a child can.

"But was that because of my family, or because of me?" Kylo wouldn't judge, not really. Most people had been fascinated, but only as a way to get to his family. "Although… perhaps with you, it would have been me. It wasn't. For everyone else."

A shrug. "Once they met my family, they no longer wanted to sit with me at lunch." 

"It was because of you," Poe answers. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I thought your family was amazing. I still do. But when I wondered about you… I was wondering about _you_. Not them. You always seemed so… separate." A beat. "Maybe I should have tried to say hello. I guess I was never quite brave enough."

"You might not have liked me. I was even more intense and – uh – anti-social back then. I had the usual childhood awkwardness, a psychopathic monster in my head, and later… hormones. Frankly, I think the galaxy got off pretty lightly." He's teasing, but there is more than a shred of truth in it.

All the checks done, Kylo fusses with Poe's hair, making sure he looks just right. "You ready to head out?"

"If I said no, would you let me take off again?" Poe asks, though it's with a wry smile, and it's clear he doesn't mean it.

"No," is the honest answer.

Powering the ship down, Poe rises from his seat. "Come on. It shouldn't take us too long to walk out to my dad's place."

"Come on, BB-8, we might need you to keep the peace," Kylo calls out to the astromech. 

***

They've landed on the edge of the settlement built close to – and around – the old Massassi Temples, but they start to head out away from it almost at once. There's a pathway – little more than a dirt road – leading off into the forest, and Poe follows it, the route familiar and well-trod. They pass the occasional homestead as they go, places whose owners likely still remember him, but they don't stop, continuing onwards.

Until… they come upon another homestead, in the shadow of some of the taller trees. It's obviously been here a good number of years, a part of the place, although Poe remembers what it looked like when it was still very new. It's very much a colonist's home, the once-pristine metal worn in but designed both to be put up quickly, and to last. There's a low, wooden fence – built several years later – encompassing the main garden.

And, off to the side… is a much smaller tree, and one that clearly doesn't fit with the others in the area. It's also much younger, only eight or nine feet tall, but it has something about it – and understandably so, given that this is the Force-sensitive tree grown from a sapling by Shara Bey-Dameron: a gift from Luke Skywalker himself, following their secret mission to Vetine.

Poe knows the story. He always wanted to hear it again and again, when he was a child.

He stands, and stares. Being back here, after so much in his life has changed… is an odd feeling.

"Hello?" he calls out.

"Well, well," comes a voice, after a moment – followed almost immediately by footsteps, as a man paces around the side of the house, looking over at them. "So you _do_ remember the way back here."

"Hey, Dad," Poe says, carefully. "And yeah. I remember the way."

Kes Dameron walks closer. He looks a lot like his son, if ever so slightly taller and bearded, and with quite a lot of grey in his hair now. "I wondered if you'd just show up like this. Hoped, maybe. Guess I still know you better than I thought."

Poe doesn't mention the part where several people had to talk him into it. It seems… wrong, somehow. And, now he's finally here, his emotions are… complicated.

"I figured a visit was overdue," he says, instead. "Also…"

How do you even do this part?

"…Dad, this is Kylo Organa-Solo. My husband. Kylo… my Dad, Kes Dameron."

Like that. Hopefully.

"It is nice to meet you, Mr. Dameron," Kylo says, with a hand over his heart and a very small bow, his voice a little distant and overly polite. He watches Kes' eyes intently, trying to read his expression without dipping into his surface thoughts.

Once, he would have done as a matter of course. But no, it's rude. You don't go doing that, except with those who've given express permission.

"You look like your father," Kes says, looking at Kylo, his own expression careful. "I got a lot of respect for Han Solo. Damn fine soldier. I guess that gets you some points. That, and the fact my son is clearly head-over-heels. Or, I gathered as much from his _one_ message home in the last _forever_ …"

"I'm sorry, OK?" Poe insists, and there's a lot of guilt in his eyes now. "Things happened. Way more than I expected. But… I'm here now."

"That you are," Kes replies. "So, Kylo… I'd do the usual 'if you do anything to hurt my son' routine, but we both know it's a little ridiculous with a Force-user such as yourself. So you tell me you love him and we'll just leave it at that, deal?"

"Believe me, if I hurt him, you'd not manage to punish me before I did it to myself," Kylo says, still not fully relaxed. "And if anyone ever dares try to hurt him…"

BB-8 beeps helpfully that the tall Master exploded the whole Star Destroyer the last time.

"…that was a joint effort," Kylo demurs. "Poe and Finn did the work on the ship. With your assistance, of course." He has to add that because of the mildly affronted wobble. 

"Yeah, we heard about that," Kes says. "Word is the Resistance has been making some serious headway since you left the First Order."

He still seems torn. Like he wants to be happy about the things he's been hearing, but doesn't quite dare. Poe decides to go for broke.

"It's true," he says. "With Kylo's help, we destroyed a deadly superweapon and took down Supreme Leader Snoke. This is _working_ , Dad. It isn't…" The younger Dameron falters a second, not wanting to drum up the old argument, and at the same time unable to ignore it. "…We're making a difference."

Kylo puts a hand on Poe's arm. "He is, Sir." And it's been a long time since Kylo used that honorific to anyone. "Poe is responsible for all of that: directly. He's saved billions of lives. He saved _me_." 

It's clear from the look in Kes' eyes that Kylo is not what he expected. Poe is confident he knows what his father expected – likely someone akin to Han Solo with Force-powers – but at least the surprise seems to be a good one.

"General Organa said much the same," Kes replies, and then – obviously catching Poe's expression – he waves a vague hand at his son. "Don't give me that look. You're not the only person corresponding with me. Although 'corresponding' is hardly the right term for _one_ message."

Kes sighs. "Why didn't you just come home?"

"Because… because I was fighting for the Resistance. And then I met Kylo. And then… then there was a month when I didn't leave the base. And then… then we had to prepare for…"

Poe looks down. "And possibly because I'm an idiot."

"You're not an idiot," his father insists, though there's pain in his eyes. "But one of these days, you're going to get yourself killed."

"Not if I can help it," Kylo growls, despite himself. "And if either of us do die, at least we'll go out fighting for what really matters. Sir. For love, and the freedom to make our own decisions in this galaxy." 

He checks himself, clearing his throat. "I know you lost your wife, and I can't understand how it really would feel, but I know how I felt when Poe was in danger. And am I terrified he'll die? Yes. But is what we're fighting for worth that risk? I wouldn't still be fighting if I didn't believe it." 

"I'm not saying I don't want the First Order gone," Kes points out. "Because I do. Same as I wanted the Empire gone. I just…"

He sighs again. "This is an old argument, and one I've had with my son too many times. Maybe you should come inside."

He leads them into the house. Every time Poe has come back here, since he first left to join the Republic Navy, has been like walking into a memory: most things still the way he remembers them, even after many years. The interior of the house very much reflects the people his parents were when they built it: young and lively, a soldier and a pilot, both of them enamoured with the trees and the peace, and each other.

Kylo wonders if he's gone too far, and he follows Poe in, still keeping his hands glancing over him for support. He wants to make it work, but he doesn't know how. Mostly he just wants to shake Kes until he sees sense, but that's not really very nice at all. 

Instead, he sits on the couch and lets the cushions eat him whole.

Kes brings drinks through from the kitchen. Poe tries to follow and help, but his father waves him back through and – opting not to argue – Poe goes and settles next to Kylo instead.

The truth of the matter is, he doesn't like feeling as though he's a guest here, in this place that was his home for so very long. But the last few times he's come back… he's felt it, more and more. Not because his father loves him any less, and not because the place means any less.

No. It's just that _home_ is somewhere else, now.

His father joins them after a few moments, settling on the opposite couch. "So," he says, turning first to Kylo. "Poe's message was a little low on detail. How did the two of you end up together?"

Kylo shoots a betrayed look at Poe. Really? Absolutely no groundwork? " _I do hate you_ ," he says, through the Bond, with all the fondness he can manage. And – well. Time to take one for the team.

"He was working for the Resistance when I captured him. We – ah – I went looking for the map to my uncle, Luke, and we ended up stuck in an ancient Sith training ground, Sir." It sounds bad when you say it like that. "…he wouldn't take my allegiance to the Order as right, and he argued himself blind, and made a convincing case for the opposition." 

Still doesn't sound good. "I didn't – uh – I mean, we… it…" How do you say: 'I did not rape your son'? "…it… sounds worse than it… might actually have been…" 

Poe looks like he's vaguely hoping the couch might swallow him. His father, on the other hand, smiles a little. "Relax, kid," he says, still talking to Kylo. "I know it happened on a mission. Know you were on opposite sides at the time, too. I also know you saved my boy's life, same as he saved yours. Good basis for a relationship, if you ask me. Shara and I…"

He trails off, looking a mixture of sad and wistful. "…My wife and I saved each other more than a few times too."

"There's something you need to know about the planet with the Sith training ground," Poe says, a little quickly, wanting to get this part out in the open. "Eigengrau. We both completed the tests there. We're both Sith."

This part, he certainly didn't mention in his obviously-too-short message. And Kes' eyes go wide at the admission, looking between the two of them in concern.

"Sith?" he repeats. "I'm no expert on all that Force stuff, but… doesn't Sith mean _evil_?"

"…it did _once_ ," Kylo jumps in. "And in some ways, it still can, but in the same way that a Jedi can be good, or evil. It's… ah… the Force is Light and Dark, but that doesn't fully line up with Good and Evil. It's more complicated than that, and neither your son nor I believe in doing 'evil' things. It's…"

Help me out, his eyes say, looking to Poe and back. "The Dark is emotion. The Light is control. There is – there are ways to use both, or to use Dark for good reasons. Perhaps what we really are is something there isn't the vocabulary for, because I use both Light and Dark. It is simply that the Dark is easier, or… feels… more right for me." 

"It's… about a balance of the two, more than anything," Poe says. This really is difficult to explain when he can't _do_ any of it, but that never stops him trying. "The Order we're building… it's for Force-users who are _both_ Dark and Light. We've seen what happens when the two keep themselves separate, so… we're trying something new."

Kes still looks a little conflicted. "So… you're not…"

"Kylo is no more evil than I am," Poe says, firmly.

There's a moment when his father appears to consider this, and then he nods. "That's all I need to hear."

"We destroyed the Starkiller. We killed Snoke. We're aiming to end the First Order… and support the Republic," Kylo reiterates, in case it helps. "And then, to give Force-sensitives a place where they can learn how to manage, how to master _both_ sides. It's unhealthy to expect Jedi to submerge, or repress their emotional side. It's just not… viable, long term. It is better by far to show them how they can use their emotion, but not let it use them. To… tap into the Dark, without letting it master…"

"I see," Kes replies. "It certainly sounds like a noble goal. But…"

"…But what?" Poe cuts in, suddenly, his emotions getting the better of him. His _reasons for not coming back_ getting the better of him. "But you don't know what good it will do? Neither do we, not truly. But we have to try. We have to fight for this middle way because it is the right thing to do. The same reason we fight for the Resistance. The same reason you and Mom fought for the Rebellion."

"And look where that got us," his father says, voice heavy with old sadness. "Thirty years later, the galaxy is still torn in two, people are still being killed, and none of it has changed."

"And none of it will, unless we keep fighting for it!" Poe exclaims, about ready to leap to his feet. "You were ready to die for the Rebellion. _Mom_ was ready to die for the Rebellion."

"Your mother _did_ die for the Rebellion!" Kes replies, and he looks close to tears. "And more than twenty years have passed, and I still don't see what she died _for_."

Now Poe _does_ leap to his feet. "The same thing people are _still_ dying for! The thing many of my friends, my _allies_ , have died for." His hands are shaking, and he can feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. " _'You fight for what you believe in, or you lie down and let evil triumph'_. That's what Mom used to say."

And he tosses the file dossier he's carrying – the one Leia gave him – onto the table between the two couches, right in front of his father. "So get up off the floor."

Kes stares at him, visibly stunned, and – for a moment – lost for words. And, perhaps, not quite daring to see precisely what's in that dossier.

Kylo doesn't know if he should intercede or not, if he should allow this to play out, but… Poe needs his help and support. Even if it fails, he should try. The Sith reaches up, wrapping a hand around a wrist, warm and grounding.

"With all due respect, Mr. Dameron," Kylo says, "…we know loss. Poe lost his mother, I lost my uncle. But they could die, even without fighting. Or they could live in fear and terror, without the protection of a Republic to give them the right to life, to their own decisions. And if we didn't fight… do you know how many planets the Starkiller could take down? In one go? Half a dozen, almost. In one. Blast."

He lets that sink in for a moment.

"You see evil still here, but evil will always be here. We're not fighting because we think we can remove it from the galaxy, but because we can _reduce_ it, and because if we stop fighting… if Poe hadn't fought for me? Do you know what I could have done worse? A lot worse. But there are people like me – like many – who can be saved; either from themselves, or from enslavement. When we _stop_ fighting is when they win." 

Kes gives him a wry look. "You're certainly your mother's son, Kylo," he says, obviously meaning it as a compliment. "And you're right. Just as my own son is right. But you're also young, and you don't know what it's like to look back on your life and see so much _loss_."

"I know already," Poe cuts in, his tone soft and hollow. "Do you know how many names I had to put on the wall after Starkiller? After Zekkan? And those were just the big missions that everyone remembers. Not the skirmishes, not the raids, not the convoy escorts. But I had to do it after plenty of those too. I haven't been with the Resistance nearly as long as some of my squadron, but I've seen more than enough of them die. My allies. My _friends_. Every single one of those losses cuts me to the core. It _never_ stops hurting. But I would rather die a thousand deaths than claim that any one of them gave their life in vain."

"You're your mother's son, too," Kes tells him, just as soft.

"I'm yours just as much as hers," Poe insists. "Now pick up the damn dossier and see why I came here, because it sure as hell wasn't to have this fight again."

There's a moment when Kes doesn't move, and then he sighs and leans to pick the dossier up, opening it, and…

"…the Pathfinders?" he says, obviously surprised. "General Organa is reforming the Pathfinders?"

"She wants you to come back, to help," Kylo says, his voice still raw with remembered death. He felt lights go out, all through the years. Felt the lives cut from the Force, even if he didn't know their names. "Because we're going to fight this fight, with or without you, but with you… maybe less names get put on the wall." 

"I'm a little past my best," Kes points out. "All that heroics business is for the young."

"We're not asking you to go to the front lines again," Poe says. "General Organa wants you to spearhead training the new unit."

She's also trying to get you on-base because you're family, now more than ever, and she thinks it will do us both good. Though this part he doesn't say out loud.

"You have a wealth of experience, and we could benefit from that," Kylo wheedles. "And you… can see the good work we're doing. We're going to fight this fight, with or without you, but we stand a better chance with you supporting us." 

"To do what? Watch more young people die?"

Poe shakes his head. "To make sure less of them do."

His father looks terribly torn, caught between the man he once was, and near-thirty years of doubt. "I'm not that person anymore. Not that young soldier with the stars in his eyes and a brilliant young pilot at his side. Now… I'm just a war widower, long since left behind by the galactic tides."

"You weren't left behind," Poe insists. "You _stayed_ behind. And I _know_ some part of you still regrets it. And…–"

He's interrupted as the holonet terminal in the corner of the room starts to beep, not the familiar chime of an incoming message or call, but the more worrying sound of a breaking news bulletin. Kes has always kept his terminal set to alert him if anything major happens – an old habit from the days of the Rebellion – and Poe remembers hearing it go off like this more than a few times.

And it's rarely good news.

There's a moment's crackle as the signal establishes, and then the voice of a reporter from one of the main galactic reporting stations cuts the air.

_"…breaking news coming in from Vikenza, in the Western Reaches. We're receiving word that there have been a series of massive explosions in the main financial districts of the capital city, Fiorra. Early reports are putting casualty levels in the hundreds, potentially the thousands, following the destruction of what seem to have been a number of large manufacturing plants – believed to belong to a Vikenzan company called Platatech – exacerbated by the fact that the blasts were indiscriminate, and damage has spilled out into the residential district close by."_

_"For more on this, we go now to our man in Fiorra, Yaal vas-Dil. Yaal?"_

_"Thank you, Kerria, and yes, I'm here now in Fiorra, where there is absolute pandemonium on the ground. Local security forces are trying to cordon off the affected areas whilst rescuers search for survivors amidst the wreckage, which one paramedic described to me as – and I'm quoting now – 'like something out of a nightmare'. Eyewitness reports from right before the blasts are sketchy, given the damage, but we are getting word that – just before the explosion – a banner was unfurled on the front of the primary target, bearing the words 'For the Resistance'…"_

Already horrified by what he's hearing, Poe feels his blood go cold. "Fuck," he breathes. "This can't… I mean…"

"The hell? We'd never do that…" Kylo walks over to the terminal, his blood ice-water in his veins. The shudder goes from head to toes, and he sways, grabbing hold of Poe. "My mother would never sanction that." 

"I know," Poe replies. He does. Leia Organa would never even consider stooping so low. "I know. But… what if someone else..?"

The thought makes him sick to his stomach. Could someone else in the Resistance _actually_ have done this?

"It won't have been any of your people," Kes cuts in, softly, his own voice full of pain. "I've seen this before, a long time ago. The remnants of the Empire tried it, after the Battle of Endor. Weapons and soldiers can do a great deal of damage, but _nothing_ does so much damage as **hate**. Make people hate… and they'll do at least half your job for you. This was the First Order."

Poe's eyes darken. "You think they're setting us up?"

"Yes. I'm afraid I do."

Before Poe can answer, something on the news report catches his attention, and he falls silent. _"…getting word that the Vikenzan Senator, Reuben Abell, is about to make a statement from the front steps of the Hall of Fiorra. So let's go live now to the scene and hear what the man who represents Vikenza in the Galactic Senate has to say about this afternoon's horrific atrocity…"_

On the viewscreen, a well-fed man with squinty eyes huffs with self-importance. _"People of the Republic: you have seen today what the guerrilla terrorist organisation known as the 'Resistance' is capable of. My planet, Vikenza – a peaceful, law-abiding world – has suffered a horrific and fatal attack. We do not yet know the full extent of the casualties, but I want to ask you: why? Why would you do this? Why would you kill innocent civilians, whose job it is to promote peace and personal safety? What of all the collateral damage?"_

_"The so-called 'Resistance' struck without warning, without a chance to evacuate. My people were given no terms. Why? Why is this acceptable? It is never acceptable to murder innocents, and Human lives at that. Do you see many non-Humans in the casualty list? No, and that's because of the xenophobic, anti-Human propaganda of this splinter group of dissidents and war criminals. I urge you all to close your doors to them, to cease trading with them. I will take my petition to the Republic itself: on behalf of Vikenzans, on behalf of all innocent, law-abiding people throughout the galaxy: outlaw these terrorists! Make them pay for their crimes! Justice is for the law, not for the vigilantes. We did not elect them, and we did not sanction them. They are illegally war-mongering, and this needs to stop!"_

A wave of _rage_ runs through Poe, so hot and so harsh that his whole body aches with it; aches with the need to act, to find the people responsible for this and _put a stop to them_. "I won't stand for this," he breathes, sick with the feeling. "I won't."

He needs to do something. Run. _Fight_. Get behind the controls of his X-Wing and…

"You need to go back," Kes tells him, stepping up and putting a hand on his son's shoulder. "You need to go back, you and Kylo, and see this made right." A pause. A breath, heavy with the weight of the decision at hand. "And I'm coming with you. I may not be sure what all this fighting will change, but I won't stand by and see the Resistance branded as terrorists."

"It's Hux," Kylo says, suddenly. "Only he would be that conniving. He's going to turn the people against us, make it look like we're villains. And if we stoop to his level and try to do the same… we're just as bad as he is. I – I should have killed him on the Starkiller, when I had the chance." Fuck.

Fuck. He's messed up, and badly. He shouldn't have left the Order with enough heads to keep running. 

"This is _not_ your fault," Poe insists, fiercely. "But we have to stop it. We have to make sure they don't do this again. We have to…"

The rage won't die down. It won't subside. It's like having a weight on his chest, a weight that never lifts, crushing the breath out of him, and he wants… he…

"I would have asked you both to stay a while," Kes tells him. "But right now, you need to go back to the Resistance at once. We all do. It looks like General Organa is going to need the Pathfinders sooner rather than later."

"We can fit you on the ship," Kylo offers. "If you can pack the essentials, now? We could assist." 

"I won't need long," Kes replies. "And then… I guess I'm back in this after all…"

He heads off, leaving his son and his son-in-law in the living room. Poe is still standing, rigid and still, not knowing how to process this. Not knowing what to do with these _feelings_ rushing through him.

"Poe… it's… you know it's just Hux, right? Because we have him on the rails." Kylo looks worried, not liking how Poe's reacting to this. 

"I know," Poe answers, softly. But it's a softness that underlies something _dark_ , rather than any kind of calmness or resignation. "But I won't stand for it. I won't let the First Order slander the names of my allies, my _friends_ , like this. Those people are _heroes_ , Kylo. They are the greatest, noblest people in the galaxy. It's bad enough when the First Order murders them, but to see their honour dragged through the mud…"

He wants to do something. Needs to do something. It burns at his core, a fire that will not go out.

Kylo's hands tighten, then let go. "I know. Believe me, I know. It's what they feed to all their recruits, and now Hux is just spilling that hate outwards. He's… he's manipulative, and smart, but we just have to show the world that he's behind it, somehow. Find the people responsible, and out it as a smear campaign? I don't know… I was never good at this sort of thing. Give me something to kill, and I kill it…" 

"We have to stop him," Poe insists. "We have to stop him and we have to expose these _lies_ for what they are. I… Kylo… I feel…"

Dark. He feels _Dark_. And it's slightly terrifying. And… also slightly _not_.

"What? Tell me, Poe. Please: I can't help you if you don't tell me." Kylo can sense enough distress through their bond, though, and it's making his teeth grind. 

It's a moment before Poe can answer. And then… " _I want to hurt them_. I mean it. I don't mean I want to stop them, want to defeat them, though I do. But I want them to _hurt_ , in a way I have only ever felt once before. And that was towards _Snoke_."

The admission is not an easy one to make. Not at all. But right now Poe's head is a mess of emotions, and he doesn't quite know what to do with any of them, or where some of them are coming from, or why _these_ ones are so strong. He's had plenty of reasons to hate the First Order before, after all. Maybe not on quite such a personal level, but still on an intense one. And yet…

Kylo guides him to the couch, pushes him down without accepting a protest, and puts a hand on his knee. "You know that's normal, right? When you're angry, hurt, frustrated? It's normal to feel the need to act on it. And it might be hard for you to come to terms with it, but… it's fine. To feel like that. It's… when you act on these things for bad reasons that it's a problem." 

Rationally, Poe knows this is true. Of course he does. Which in turn begs the question of where the _doubt_ is coming from.

"I know," he answers. "I just…" He bites his lip, looking down. "I'm sorry. It will pass, and I'll be able to focus again."

Maybe, if he says it enough, it will happen.

"No… why is it upsetting you? Is it that… you're not used to feeling so angry? Or is it something different?" Kylo pauses. "Is it Snoke? Is it because it reminds you of him?" 

"On some level, yes," Poe answers. "He made me feel things I'd never felt before. I wanted him _dead_ , with an intensity I wasn't prepared for, even… even after what happened. But… those feelings made sense. What he did to you… what… what he did to me… I…"

He grips Kylo's hand, suddenly; his own shaking a little.

"But even then, I had control of it. But this… I can't explain it. I feel… _wrong_ , right at my core…"

Kylo's arms go around him, pulling him under his chin, into his chest, tightening, rocking him slightly. "They're hurting what you believe in, and people you love. It's just as vicious, but it's spread out. And… do you want to stop feeling it? Do you want us to try to make it go away?"

Poe is torn. "Anger makes sense in this situation. What they've done… murdering all those people and painting us with the crime… it… Anger makes sense. But what I feel is… _rage_. Uncontrolled anger. Kylo… I…"

Something has been wrong at his core for hours, now. Longer. Definitely since Chikara. Although… maybe longer still.

Maybe since Korriban.

"…Help me make it stop. I need it to stop."

Now, perhaps more than ever, Poe understands why the Dark Side – unchecked – can make its adherents fall. If he had that kind of power, here in this moment… he worries what he would do with it.

Kylo is distressed, and he doesn't fully know what to do. He picks Poe up, pulls him into his lap, wraps arms around him once more. "I can try. I… can try to help you find the feeling, or – or – find other feelings? So you feel it less? Maybe if we make you remember good things, memories of… of here? Or of how it feels when you win?"

The Sith is used to anger. He's lived with it most of his life, and usually he took to slashing up consoles in his fury, but he doesn't know if it's actually helpful to suggest that, or not. "How do you normally calm down if you're angry?" 

"I channel it into something good. Something productive. I fly."

_I don't ever feel like **this**._

The contact helps, though, and Poe curls into it eagerly, letting the warmth of his lover's hands slowly pull him back from the edge he can feel inside his mind. But how _far_ back… is hard to tell.

"We need to return to base," he says. "We need to be there when they plan our response to this."

"Okay. But… if it doesn't feel better, after we talk to them? After we come up with our strategy, do you promise you will tell me, and we try whatever it takes to make you feel better?" 

Because Poe distressed leads to Kylo distressed leads to bad things for everyone. 

"I promise," is Poe's answer. And even if he didn't mean it – which he does – it's doubtful he'd be able to hide it for long. A breath. "At least my dad agreed to come with us."

"Yes. I have a feeling we're going to need as much of the old guard as we can find. I wonder if my mother knows any other holdouts we'll need to round up…" 

"We'll soon see," Poe replies, a flicker of that darkness still lingering in his voice. "We'll soon see."


	11. Means To An End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salutations, readers! We're back with our next chapter, in which Hux continues to have a plan, and three Knights of Ren go on a roadtrip. Spacetrip. Same difference.
> 
> OK, OK, a spacetrip with added backstory. Because nothing screams CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT like a planet that can give you visions... ;-)

General Hux cuts the feed to the holonet, and smiles.

It worked perfectly. Vikenza is a sea of chaos and blood, and the guilt has been laid squarely at the feet of the hated Resistance. _Precisely_ as he planned. Let them try to fight now with so heavy a lodestone round their traitorous necks. Let them waste precious time and resources trying to re-paint themselves as heroes, rather than the no-good scum they are.

Yes. Oh yes. Today is a _good_ day, and Hux allows himself a moment to enjoy it.

He'll have to keep a close eye on Reuben Abell. The Vikenzan Senator might well prove to be of further use – and a back-pocket ally if nothing else – but Hux knows he can't let his guard down where the man is concerned. Abell was – _is_ – part of the plan, after all.

The General is dragged from his thoughts as the door chime sounds. "Enter," he calls out.

Hoping it isn't Danika Ren.

"General," Mitaka says, respectfully remaining in the doorway until he's given permission to fully enter the room. 

"Get in here," Hux says. "Has there been any word from Vikenza? Abell said he'd be in touch once the immediate aftermath of the attack was over."

He wants to hear from the man, after all. The speech was good, but then, Hux _did_ write it himself. He'd prefer some sign of Abell's true reaction, if only as reassurance that the two of them are still on the same page.

"No, Sir. I've been trying to hail him, but I expect the demands of his constituency and the news cycle have been stealing his time." Mitaka looks apologetic, even if it isn't his fault. 

Hux sighs. "I really detest politicians," he says, though he isn't wholly surprised. No doubt Abell will be milking this for all it's worth. "But at least we can content ourselves with the knowledge that the plan worked. It may not be suitable revenge for the murder of our Supreme Leader, but it is a start."

A headtilt. "What is the word among the ranks? Do they believe this attack was indeed the work of the Resistance, or do they see through it?"

"They believe, Sir. Or the ground troops do. There may be some who see through in higher ranks, but they wisely keep their counsel and their tongues to themselves." Including Mitaka himself. 

"Good. I want it kept that way, for as long as possible. The less people who know the truth, the less risk of it getting out. We need to act again, and sooner rather than later. And we need to up the ante…"

Hux rises from his desk, pacing over to the window and staring out at the dark of space, lost in his own thoughts for a moment. Their second attack must be at least as serious, if not more so, than their first. But… at the same time, it would be foolish to keep hitting those who support them, even to paint them as victims. It worked just fine on Vikenza, an unimportant world littered with inter-species tensions, but Hux would much rather target _Resistance_ assets, **and** paint them as the aggressors.

And he can. Because _he_ controls the narrative of this little tableau.

"Our second attack will be somewhere more significant," he says, thinking as he speaks. "Somewhere ingrained into the galactic consciousness. Coruscant, perhaps, or Corellia, or somewhere with clear ties to them. We hit known Resistance sympathisers… and we paint the attackers as a splinter group. People who think the Resistance is not doing _enough_. People who call themselves…"

Hmmm. Something. It needs to be good. Something that will play well on the newsreels for days and days.

"The 'New Rebellion'?" the Lieutenant suggests, head to one side. "To distance themselves, and play on the old sympathies? We could then tar both groups in one stroke." 

Hux thinks about this for a moment, rolling the words around in his mind. "Yes," he says, nodding. "Yes, that will work. It's certainly emotive. The New Rebellion, hitting those in the Resistance they think aren't doing _enough_ to achieve their pitiful aims…"

The urge to pace comes back, though this time it's more the slow steps of a predator with cornered prey, rather than a man beset by agitation. Either way, he ignores it. He is the point around which everything _else_ moves.

Or, he will be.

"Get me Captain Adrienne," he orders, deciding. "Have her come straight here, and tell no one where she is going. I need to entrust this to someone competent."

Mitaka draws himself up taller, nodding and snapping his heels sharply together. "Yes, Sir. Anything else, Sir?" 

"Not for now, no," Hux answers. "But keep me apprised of any other reactions from the ranks with regards to what happened today. Especially those who suspect it was us."

"Of course, Sir," Mitaka says, taking the dismissal. He turns to walk out, and as the door opens, he's brushed firmly by someone walking _in_. Someone who wasn't invited.

Someone short. 

"Celebrating blowing up our own supply chain, are we?" Danika asks. 

Hux waits for the door to close before he answers, his tone sharp, refusing to let this _little girl_ dampen his mood. "I wouldn't expect you to understand," he replies. "This was a _military_ operation, and one that went precisely as planned. Right now, all across the galaxy, people are questioning what the Resistance's real motives are. What they truly _want_ , and what they will do to get it. With one small attack on an unimportant _backwater_ , I have made everyone think twice. _Everyone_."

"And made it harder for your white-coated cannon-fodder to get their useless armour," she adds, a smirk in her voice, even hidden by the mask she wears. 

"Well. As long as you're happy it worked. Do you think the public will even pay attention to it?" She's been away from the big, bad world of the media circus for so long, now, that she barely remembers seeing the holos as a child. It's not something that is done much, within the Order. 

"I know that they will," is Hux's answer, level and certain. "When so-called _heroes_ are painted as terrorists, everyone stands up and takes notice. And even if given evidence to the contrary… that seed of _doubt_ is already in their minds, and it will never go away."

He knows people, after all. Much too well. Even the ones he does not care to know.

"What's to stop them doing the same with our name?" She trails gloved fingers over a surface, more to interfere and leave smudgy finger-streaks over it than for the sensation. It's too pristine in here, too clinical. Danika longs to break a few things out of place. 

" _Nobility_." Hux almost spits the word like it's a curse. "They would rather martyr themselves than do what must be done. Besides… what more could they do with our name? We built a weapon with the power to destroy an entire star system. We are not trying to coddle people into line, Lady Ren. We are trying to _crush_ them into it."

Where they belong. The strong should rule the weak, and the weak should obey, or die. That was a lesson the Empire taught, and Hux learned it well. And early.

"What will make people hate them, but love us? Or do you just want them to love no one?" It doesn't quite make sense to her, not really. She just understands the power of power, not of these emotional tricks. It's all ridiculously over-blown to her.

If you're strong, you win. End of. People either obey, or are destroyed. None of this hearts and minds nonsense. 

"They will never love us," Hux replies. "We do not need them to. We merely need them to understand that ours is the true power in this galaxy, and that the _Resistance_ will lead them to nothing but chaos and ruin. The Rebellion proved that thirty years ago, when they plunged everything back into this _mess_."

"How did you even end up with the Order?" Not that it matters, but Danika hears the fire and fury in his voice, and she wonders. It's similar in some ways to the fanatical tone she remembers hearing from the last person to hold her post, but also different. 

The question takes Hux by surprise, and his head turns sharply to look at her before he can suppress the reaction. "I was born into it," he answers. "My father, Brendol Hux, was a senior officer in the Empire, and one who created the system by which the Order now trains its troops. He was Commandant of the Arkanis Academy, where I was raised."

There's a flicker of memory in his voice as he speaks, and one he can't quite hold back. But he doesn't dwell on it – _can't_ dwell on it – and continues after only the barest pause.

"When the Empire fell – when the _Republic_ was created to kowtow to the demands of the Rebels – my father was one of those still loyal to the ways of the Empire. One of those who left for the Unknown Regions to create the First Order… and I went with him. I didn't just end up with the Order, Lady Ren. I _am_ the Order."

"Explains some things." That's enough of an answer for her, she supposes. It was only a passing interest, because the man and his methods are only means to an end for her. Still, to understand your tools a little helps you wield them. 

"What happened to your dear father? I don't remember meeting any other Huxes. He bite a blaster?" 

Hux's eyes narrow at the implication, but he knows he can content himself with the knowledge that the truth is far better than Danika's misconception. "He died," he answers. "He died an old man, undefeated, safe in the knowledge that the ways of the Empire would endure because of the First Order. Because of me."

"Right." Danika is already bored. "So, have you found anything out about my planet? Because right now, we don't have a big weapon. We need one, I'm sure you agree. Something you can point and shoot?" 

"Actually… my people may have found your little lost planet," Hux says, enjoying the chance to reveal the information. Enjoying the knowledge that he hasn't done so until now. "The details you provided from the Korriban texts were sketchy but, combined with data from the archives of the Empire… we believe we may have found this Chikara you are searching for."

Hopefully this in turn means that soon they will find the crystal that Danika spoke of. Something of that size would be well-suited to use in a superweapon. A new superweapon.

One with which he can show the Republic the true meaning of power. And of fear.

And he didn't tell her at once? Of course not. Danika resists the urge to slam a Force hand around his throat, and smiles toothily below her mask.

"I expect you already plotted our course for this planet, then? Or at least the system?"

"On the contrary, I have no intention of taking the _Finalizer_ so deep into the Unknown Regions," Hux answers, smoothly. "I would prefer not to advertise the existence and location of the planet to every single person aboard this ship, given what may be waiting for you when you get there… and given that the Resistance will no doubt want to get their hands on it too. I have had a shuttle prepared for you. Upsilon-class. It is in Bay 1, whenever you are ready to leave."

"Right." She doesn't like being corrected, even if it's sensible. "It's probably best I keep non-Force-sensitives away from such power, anyway. I'll take a crew of Knights, then."

The best pilot of the group is Tovim, so she'll grab him. And, of course, her sister. "Have you put the co-ordinates into the navicomp"? 

"Of course," Hux tells her. "The ship is fully provisioned and armed. I do hope you find what you're looking for."

Either way, he can't lose. If she dies, that whole problem is solved. If she comes back, it could potentially be with the Eye of Chikara, and thereby the ability to build his new superweapon.

"Fine. I'll get my crew ready. You got somewhere to store it, when we bring it back?" She doesn't know how big it is, but surely with an Upsilon they'll be able to fit it aboard. Or get Hux to show his face with his minions at the last minute.

"I will have one of the storage bays cleared out and secured. That will be sufficient until we can decide what to do with it in the long-term."

Namely, until we decide how to use it for both our purposes at once. Which Hux knows they're going to have to do. But, he is pragmatic. He can make it work.

"Then I'll set out. The longer we wait… the more those idiots can ruin the galaxy." Danika doesn't even politely sign off, she just walks to the door, planning on leaving with nothing else said. He doesn't deserve more, after all. 

"Good luck, Lady Ren," Hux calls after her, with the smooth tones of a man who can do diplomacy when he applies himself. If nothing else, he's going to need to do it a lot more in the days to come.

***

Danika and her sister walk up to the shuttle readied for them. It sits, dark, imposing and ready on the hangar bay floor. The stark lines of the wings in landing position, the craft a black smudge of possible death.

She can fly, just not with any great skill. Other people do the flying _for_ her. The twins walk up the gangway, into the belly of the craft, and the hatch closes behind them, sealing them in.

"Been a while since we did this," Danika says to her younger sibling.

"I'm looking forward to it," Daria replies. "Anything to get off this wretched Star Destroyer. Besides… if half of what we've been reading about Chikara is true, it should be something to see."

"Yes. It's not often you can find a place of such natural Force-affinity that hasn't been destroyed or defiled over the years." Danika wishes there was more of their heritage still standing. "Do you have everything? Should I tell our pilot to punch it?"

Even masked, Daria's smile is audible. "Oh, I'm more than ready. But… our pilot? Who's flying us?"

"I apologise in advance," is all Danika will say.

As they walk further in, the pilot swivels in the main seat of the cockpit. He's unmasked, and his gloves sit inside his grilled helm to the right of him. Tovim Ren, a man with messy blond hair and bright eyes throws them a sloppy salute. "Mistress. Other Mistress."

"I told you not to call us that," Danika growls.

"A thousand and one apologies… my _Lord_ ," says the Knight, hand on his chest and a bow over it. 

"Besides, I'm neither your Mistress nor your Lord," Daria insists, dropping a little heavily into the seat on Tovim's right, and seemingly resisting the urge to put her feet up on the cockpit controls. "Danika's our Master."

There's no resentment in her voice – on the contrary, Daria is clearly proud of the position her twin has risen to. But it's also true to say that everyone seems to see her as the de-facto 2IC of their group, just as Danika was de-facto 2IC when Kylo was in charge. And… Daria doesn't appear to like it the way Danika once did.

"Tovim, if you don't remember basic terms of respect, I might volunteer you for Hux's re-conditioning unit. After all, we're wanting to try it out on Force-sensitives," the older twin says. It might be good, actually, to throw someone into that. She obviously won't throw Daria in, and the other three are a fixed unit, so trying to split them up would go badly. Hmm.

"Hey! I'm loyal as they come!" Tovim says. "Just a minor slip of the tongue. Not like I called you _Mommy_."

"Do, and die."

"We ready to go?" Tovim asks, batting long lashes. "You two safely stowed and ready for a magical mystery tour?"

"Shut up and get us off this Star Destroyer," Danika orders.

Daria thunks her head back against the seat. "Why are we bringing him, exactly?"

"Because if the flying needs a flyboy…" 

"Because he's arrogant enough to take risks and keep us alive if it needs creative flying. Regardless of his gender," Danika replies.

"So nice to know it's not because of me being eye candy. I mean, we're all Knights here. Why don't you two pull those buckets off and enjoy the wind in your hair?"

"Why don't you stick yours back on and give us both a break?" Daria retorts.

"Oh, but I fly better like this…" Tovim taps the helmet. "It's good for sabre-fighting, but for the rest of the time it's a bit of a crimp. Never got why the old boss liked them so much."

"The new boss likes them just as much," Danika reminds him. "And you're lucky we're only Knights aboard."

"Oh, trust me, I wouldn't show this visage to just anyone." Tovim swivels back to the controls, starting to unmoor them and lift from the hangar. "I save myself for the prettiest of ladies. And not-ladies."

"You do realise there's a word for not-ladies?"

"I do."

"I've changed my mind," Daria says, flatly. "I'd rather stay on the Force-forsaken Star Destroyer."

"Daria," her sister chides, gently. "Tovim, you keep that tongue of yours to yourself unless told otherwise. Understood?"

Tovim doesn't answer, piloting the ship out.

"Are you five?" Danika growls. "I'm not going to stand for such childish behaviour. You knew damn well that I expected a response."

"I understand," Tovim replies, his tone far from obedient, but not so snarky as to be blatantly disrespectful.

"Fly the ship. And you put your helmet back on the moment we hit hyperspace."

"Yes, Master." 

***

The journey is a long one, and it's something of a mercy when they finally drop back to sublight, above a dark-looking planet with a rather distant, blue-white star.

Daria stares at it through the viewscreen. "…Is this it?"

"Looks like. Whoo… looks very not friendly, too…" The pilot punches some buttons, displaying information.

"Looks like we're going to need air to EVA," Danika complains. Wonderful. Most life sticks to actually inhabitable worlds, and have similar requirements of oxygen, gravity and other markers, but this doesn't look inhabited. Doesn't look like it ever was, perhaps.

"But feel the Force-aura to it. It's like the whole planet's ringing. Don't you think?"

"…Like nothing I've ever felt before," Daria answers, sounding a mixture of alarmed and drawn. "It feels… _awake_. **Alive**. More like a sentient creature than a mere planet. It's… it's as though the Force is not just strong here but _drawn_ here, like a gravity-well."

"Yeah, but the thing about gravity wells is they're dangerous," Tovim says, sighing. 

"Our masks should be fine, if we snap on the extra air filter behind them." Danika's already thinking five steps ahead. "And we should keep our sabres ready. Just because we can't sense any lifeforms doesn't mean there aren't any down there."

"They could easily be drowned out by all that noise," the pilot agrees.

"And look at all the electrical activity," Daria adds, eyes tracking over the readouts. "We'll need to avoid the worst of the storms."

"That's why you brought me." Tovim cracks his knuckles loudly. "I'll get us down, don't you lovely things worry." 

"In one piece, please," Danika asks, exasperated. 

***

Chikara is unpleasant. Danika wonders if the planet is unpleasant because of the Force-crystals, or if it's the other way around. Whatever cause and effect, it's horrible and she wants to leave as soon as possible.

Winds whip coolly around them, and the surface is littered with fragments of crystalline structures laid bare by the swooping air over many years. They are walking in the direction of the strongest resonance, hoping to find answers there.

"Homey," Tovim comments.

"I doubt your home was this nice," Danika shoots back.

"Better than yours, I bet."

"Don't talk about our home," Daria says, with an unusual sharpness to her tone. "We are where we're meant to be. Though hopefully that will not include _this_ place for too long."

"Suit yourselves." A shrug, and the lone male starts off striding away from their shuttle. "Just because we're evil doesn't mean we can't have a bit of fun, a bit of polite conversation…"

"We're not evil, we're Dark," Danika replies, as if by rote, and strides with longer paces past him. It burns her calves, but she's determined to stand out front of them. "And… wait. Did… did anyone else…?"

"I did," is Daria's answer, her hand going at once to the sabre hilt at her hip. "Over there, near those rocks, I saw… _movement_. A figure, perhaps. But I don't sense a presence, Force-sensitive or otherwise… beyond the overwhelming sense of this whole place."

"Okay, I didn't get the memo, so if this is some freaky Bond-thing?" Tovim then spins, seeing a figure in black walk past. "…or… did anyone see that?"

"It looked…" Like Kylo Ren. Like when he still used to be something. Black-clad and awesome, hidden behind a faceplate and so very powerful. Nostalgia hits Danika like a punch to the gut. "It couldn't be."

"It could," Daria almost whispers. Hope and memory, mixed with betrayal and pain. The man who saved them, who made them strong, who made them _Knights_. "Could he be here too, searching for the Eye..?"

"We'd feel him." They would. Even with all this interference, right? They'd be able to tell the traitor was here. Danika bites at her lip, under her mask. A self-comforting trait, and one she's never managed to shake. Not that it matters: no one can see.

"…unless it's a vision of him coming," she muses.

"Or a memory of him having already been?" 

Danika rounds on Tovim. "Why would he be here?"

"Well, why would you? He's got as much Sith lore as we do, maybe more. Could have come months ago."

"We need to stay alert," Daria insists, obviously trying to maintain some kind of hold on the situation. "If he's here… he might not be alone. He might have…"

She trails off, staring into the haze. "I saw it again. Movement. Over that way." The younger twin draws her weapon, sparking the blade to life. "Come and face us, traitor!"

The dark figure resolves slowly into something more tangible. It looks like Kylo Ren – or his outfit, at least – but it's a little less bulky, a little less tall. The voice that comes from the mask is similar, but that's because of the vocoder.

"You'll need to wear those at all times," he says to the two young girls who squirm from foot to foot and pull and tug at uncomfortable clothing.

"…that's… I remember that day…" Danika lowers her own blade, humming red and angry, as she paces closer to the vision in front of them. "When we were first really Knights. You remember, don't you?" 

"I remember," Daria murmurs, sounding a little distant. "We were so young, so… _afraid_. He taught us how not to be. How… how to make the bad thoughts stop. He…"

She reaches for her sister with her free hand, as if needing the physical contact more than a brush with the Force. "…he told us we could make it so that we were never alone."

But her voice betrays the lingering fear: the echoes of what they saw, that day at the Jedi Academy. The day when everyone else they knew… was no more.

"He didn't teach us enough. Or maybe he didn't know enough." Danika's tone is harsh, because his betrayal cut deep. It wasn't enough for the man to run off once, he had to do it again? How did his new friends even trust he'd stay?

She watches the two small girls nudge hands together, rocking and swaying under heavy black. They look far too young to be soldiers, but then the boy instructing them is barely old enough himself. It makes her gut clench. He was an idiot child, and the Leader should have seen past his raw power.

"Touching little family reunion. I knew you three came as one joint package, but I didn't know how young." Tovim paces closer to the images, walking around them in a tight circle. "How many times did you have to get refitted for your armour?"

"As many as it took," Daria insists, defensive. "There is no shame in starting young. It meant we had more time to train, more time to learn. By the time we reached adulthood, we were already skilled warriors…"

"I'm not looking down on you. I mean… historically speaking, over these small yous I am, but… it's more that I suppose I always thought you were the age you were when I met you. Hard to remember people exist before, huh." Tovim bends down, looking closely at the memories.

"What are you doing?" The older twin doesn't like it, doesn't like him walking through the memory of Kylo Ren talking to them, striding through like it's a holo, not a real thing. 

"Trying to work out which of you is which. If you'd just talk more…"

The Kylo memory clasps the twins on the shoulders. "I know you're strong enough," he says.

The one on the left stands tallest, then. "We will. We won't disappoint you, B-- Kylo."

"…that one's you, Dani, I could tell a parsec off."

"Don't. Ever. Call. Me. Dani," she growls. 

"Why are we even seeing this?" Daria says, obviously trying to change the subject, even if the question is also a valid one. "What's the point of it? It's just a memory."

"Maybe it's supposed to give us some message or other?" Danika still feels creeped out by it. It's a time long ago, and one she has no interest in reliving. It happened. It's gone. She was a child, and she was weaker, then. She's better, now. 

As she turns, the walls of the Star Destroyer fade and melt, and there's other walls, instead. Walls somewhere dark, dank and grubby. The lighting is artificial – the planet's natural light much too far away to filter down – and there's a sound of squelching, fast footsteps. Danika turns, and watches as a young scrap of a boy with muddy-blond hair skitters behind a dumpster, his hands on his knees as he doubles over to catch his breath.

"Is that…?"

"Wow. Okay. So we're playing 'Blast from the Past'," Tovim mutters, sounding less pleased now.

"Is that _you_?" Daria exclaims, looking from the elder Tovim to the small boy in front of them, caught between verbal poking and genuine curiosity. "You haven't told us anything about where you grew up…"

"Because there's nothing to tell. It was a dive. I was short. Now I'm not. End of." He says it a little hotly, sounding like this is a little too close to the bone.

The small boy stops panting, and then peers around the dumpster, looking for anyone in pursuit. When he sees no one, he reaches a hand inside to pull out a sandwich, stuffing it too fast into his mouth.

Danika watches with a twinge of guilt. The boy – Tovim, if it was his name back then – looks poorly fed and poorly cleaned. A gutter rat. They aren't supposed to exist under the 'glorious' Republic, but here's evidence they still do. Or did, when they were not much younger. 

"When did you end up on the streets?"

"Don't know. And it doesn't matter, I'm not there _now_ , am I? I mean, other than in this weird-ass memory thing." 

"Did you know you were Force-sensitive?" Daria pushes. "I guess it would have helped. Made you stronger. But… I suppose you must have been older, before you knew."

"Who to tell me what it was I did, when I got away with things? I didn't know what I was doing wasn't 'natural', not to begin with… just thought I was lucky." 

"We didn't find out straight off," Danika admits. "We… well. Someone found us." 

"I still don't get the point of all _this_ ," Daria says – obviously and deliberately changing the subject again. "Why show us our childhoods? What's the point? _You think this is funny?!_ " she calls out, to no one in particular, but perhaps to whatever unseen power is doing this. Perhaps to the Force itself.

"Is it showing off? Or is it trying to tell us something?"

"It needs to speak Basic if it is." Danika turns, hearing more footsteps. Someone's found the boy Tovim, but when she turns… it's… Hux? 

The scene before them blends and changes as the familiar figure stalks into view, shifting quickly into the bridge of a Star Destroyer: one even more grand and imposing than the _Finalizer_. Through the huge front window, there is the view of a blue and green planet hanging in space, wispy white clouds dotting its atmosphere.

The vision of Hux turns to the officer at his side. "We're sure they are down there?"

"Absolutely, General," the officer answers. "Our spies report all six Knights of Ren are currently on the surface, along with their acolytes."

Hux nods. "Good. Is the weapon charged?"

"Yes, sir. Ready at your command."

The General stares resolute, triumphant, down at the planet below. "Target the location of their enclave," he orders. " _Fire_."

At once, a deep thrum cuts the air, seconds before a vivid red beam emanates from somewhere in the underbelly of the Star Destroyer, coursing down towards the planet. It strikes home in an instant, ripping through rock and water alike, carving a deep scar across the planet's surface: obviously thousands of miles long, but leaving the planet itself intact.

Intact and devastated.

"What – no!" Danika steps forwards, fury and sabre in her hands. It's absolutely disgusting! How could he dare! How would he conceal his intentions from them? Why would he wipe out the Knights of Ren?

"I did – sort of – not see that one coming." Tovim's tone is dark and depressed.

"…Is this a vision of the future?" Daria wonders aloud, sounding haunted now. "I mean… those visions of our childhoods were real, so this… We can't let it happen, Danika. I knew we couldn't trust _him_."

"Maybe the Force is showing us so we can stop it?" The Master of Ren has to believe it, because to think their future is set in stone: to die, killed from space? She won't accept it. Not ever. "We'll kill him first."

Tovim won't even look at the viewscreen. "Not to ask the obvious: but why haven't we already?"

"We need him for the soldiers," Danika says, her tone one of someone sick of arguing. "They'll follow him, for now."

"We don't have the resources to do this alone," Daria concurs. "We need him, and he needs us. But… when the day comes that he _doesn't_ …"

"We have to kill him first," Danika concludes.

"How do we know when that day comes?"

"I guess when he has the ability to blow the traitor and any other Force-sensitive up he might find… that's when we worry. But we plan ahead of time, have exit and control strategies, and we don't get complacent." The older twin thinks on for a moment.

"Also, we work out how to replace him." Danika chews on her lip under her helmet. "Either with one of us, or with a successor."

"We will find a way," Daria insists, though it's clear she's still deeply rattled by what they've just witnessed. "He won't move against us until he gets what he wants… so we have until then to decide what to do."

Danika makes a note to up that part of her planning. "None of this is helping us find the crystal, though. Do we keep moving?" 

"Can we even control something like this, or-- oh, looks like we can." Tovim nods to a hole in a rocky wall, a dark entrance to a cavern.

"I think we need to go inside?" Danika didn't mean to make it sound like a question, but it came out that way. There's an ominous sense of foreboding, and she doesn't want to walk inside, but knows she must.

Daria moves closer to her sister. "I think we have to," she agrees. "We came here for a reason. Whether this place is trying to teach us or delay us… we have to push onwards."

"Next time I should just let curiosity kill me," Tovim grumbles.

"We'll do it for you," Danika offers.

"You only have to ask," Daria adds. "Or just keep talking in general."

"You two are so good to me."

Danika ignores him, then, and decides if she's Master, she has to take one for the team. She strides off, towards the cavern entrance, and slips inside. Inside, there there's a hub of activity. A huge crystal – thrumming with power – sits rising gracefully up. She can't see her own reflection in it, but she can see the reflection of the half-dozen workers, wrapping the huge structure in chains and straps.

"This must be when they moved it…" 

"But where did they take it?" Daria says. "Can we interact with them..? Can..?"

She steps up to the closest of the figures, reaching for the person's shoulder, but her hand just goes straight through; the illusion seeming to slip aside and reform once she is out of the way.

"Typical," the younger twin grouses.

"Try to listen for any hints, or maybe if we get to see the course they plot?" Tovim suggests. 

The figures look like some of the statues on Korriban, Danika thinks. Some of the better preserved pictures she saw inside sepulchres, and as she hones in on the distant speech… "That's not Basic, is it?"

"No," Daria agrees. "Not even close. I think it might be the ancient Sith language… but I don't know it nearly well enough to understand very much. Not spoken. I can do it if it's written down, but this…"

She still tries, nonetheless, falling silent and concentrating on the words the figures are speaking, searching for some meaning amidst them. Some sense of what they're saying.

Daria was always the scholar of them, or what passes for the scholar. Danika is more the tactician, the strategian, and that always works out fine. K-- the _traitor_ used to tell them that it was because their Bond worked with their opposites, as well as their alikes. She strides around the people in the vision, looking at their clothing, their tools, their… rudimentary… Sith swords? 

That's what the holocrons said, she thinks. And that dates this to somewhere around five thousand years ago. Maybe even linked to the Naga Sadow she saw mentioned a few times? She thinks she hears that name muttered in with all the muted sounds. Then something that sort of…

"…did that… did anyone else… hear that?"

"Sounded important," Tovim agrees. "I don't know how I know, but when I heard it, it sounded… plot-relevant?"

Danika glares at him. 

"I did," Daria murmurs, concentrating. "It… OK, it's definitely in Old Sith… a phrase but also… also a _name_. 'Midwanjontû'. It means… something about the tools to acquire power… but they're using it as a proper noun. Could it be the name of where they're going? Where they took the Eye?"

"Sounds like the kind of name you'd give to some giant-ass crystal home. Maybe we should suggest changing the General's ship to that?"

"I think if we renamed his phallic compensation in Sith he would try to shoot us on the spot." Although Danika thinks it could be worth it, it's also too late to put it in the pot. 

Daria, for once, seems too caught up in what they're witnessing to get caught up in the sniping. "…It's a planet," she says. "I'm sure of it. Although where said planet might be… I have no idea."

"Do you recognise anything else from your holos?" Tovim asks, unusually interested in the situation for once, instead of just running his mouth.

"Not really. I mean, other than those Sith swords… they could be anyone. But they are Sith, not Jedi," Danika answers. She's sure of that, and would be, even without the language and weaponry. Something about them screams 'Dark'.

"They are," Daria agrees. "They are, and they took the Eye. But there's no records of it being used as a weapon. So… what did they do with it?"

"Did they lose the war before they got a chance to install it?" Danika hopes not. Because if they did, is it unmoored somewhere in space? In the black of beyond? How could they ever find it, then?

"If they did, finding it will be next to impossible." Daria does not sound pleased by the prospect. "But we're seeing this for a reason, and I don't think it's to taunt us with something impossible. I think it's to tell us where to go. I… _feel_ it."

Tovim rocks on his heels. "Okay, but we gotta find this… do you even know how to spell it?"

"Daria always knows."

"Glad one of us does."

"Do you think we can find anything else out?" Danika says, continuing to pace like a hungry Rancor. "Or do we need to find a way back to reality?"

"We need to get back," Daria replies. Her voice seems distant, like her mind is elsewhere. "But… maybe we could…"

The younger twin's voice trails right off, and she paces closer to the vision of the Eye of Chikara, now being slowly lifted by the shadowy figures around it. A gloved hand goes out, reaching for the surface of the crystal… and then the Force _reverberates_ with a sourceless scream, the air seeming to shatter, and…

…The vision drops away. They're standing in the same cavern, but the Eye is gone, the figures are gone, and the air is suddenly cooler.

"…what did you do?" Tovim asks.

"Are you all right?" Danika adds, walking right over and putting a hand on her sister's shoulder. She has to make sure she's not hurt, and the Force profile of this planet is playing havoc with her Bond to her.

"I… Yes. Yes. I'm fine," Daria insists, though her voice is still strange. "I… wanted to touch it, suddenly. Like I needed to. So I did, and…"

A pause, as she collects herself. "I'm fine." A little more convincing this time, though not by much.

"We should get back to the ship. The sooner we're away from here, the better." Though when you think a First Order Star Destroyer is _safer_ is when you worry. 

Danika is going to pay extra attention to Hux, now. He really cannot be trusted.

"Agreed," Daria says. "And then we can start work on finding where the Eye _really_ is."

_Midwanjontû_. A means to achieve power.

It's certainly apt enough.


	12. Path Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday, folks! We have another plotty chapter for you today, as the Resistance reels from the bombing on Vikenza, but still finds time to make an important new appointment (we think we know some people who will approve of this one!)
> 
> Also, yes, we know we've been very plotty and less smutty of late. Never fear. It's simply because we like to make you quiver with antici...
> 
> >;-)

As the _Phoenix_ touches down at last, Poe sits back, setting the ship to low-power mode and glancing sideways at his father.

"Well, here you have it," he says. "Welcome to Tahanan."

"I see you're still maintaining the aesthetic…" Kes remarks, with a little smile, gesturing out at the trees visible beyond the edge of the base.

"We are," Poe replies. "Plus, no one wants to live on any more frost planets. Though this one is cold enough at night…"

The three of them head down and out of the ship, onto the landing concourse. There are a few people around, but the air seems tense – no doubt because of the news about the bombing on Vikenza – and only a trio of figures approach.

And that, of course, is inevitable, given that the people in question are Leia and Han, along with Chewbacca. Despite everything, Leia smiles warmly when she sees them, eyes lingering for a second on her son before moving to Kes.

"You came back," she says to the older man. "I'm glad. You've been missed."

"My son presented a convincing argument," Kes replies, brushing off the light compliment just the way Poe would. "Plus, we heard about Vikenza, and… I had to come. I may not be wholly sold on this Resistance of yours, but I won't have anyone dragging your names through the mud. Especially not people who are merely the Empire with a different flag."

Chewbacca roars in agreement, and then purrs a question, head tilted to one side.

"Yeah, what the big guy said. If I come back home before you do, something's wrong," Han says, and claps the man on his upper arm. "Good to see you, Dameron."

Kylo winces. That's Poe's surname, even if he knows full well that to Han, it's Kes'. "He needed strong-arming. But don't worry, I didn't break it." 

"You too, Solo," Kes replies. "Been… what, twelve years? Guess it says a lot, you being back in this thing. Not as many of the old guard left as there should be…" He looks down for a moment, but then clearly realises he's being melancholy and seems to perk up. "But, from what I hear, my boy's been doing good with the new guard."

"He has," Leia answers, smiling at Poe as she does. "We've made a great deal of progress. Although the events of today…" Now it's her turn to look down, just for a second. "We have to come up with a response, and quickly. So I'm doubly-glad you're here. All three of you."

"Have you called a war table?" Kylo asks. He's beginning to hate those, even if they normally end up in victory. 

"Yeah, come to get your asses there," Han replies. 

"There's possibly more faces you will recognise than you expect." Kylo flicks his eyes to Kes. "Most of the Rebellion seem to be here." Those who are still with us. 

"Then we should go," Poe says. He's calmed somewhat since Yavin 4, but he still can't shake the need to act. Or that… darker edge. "I need to know precisely what happened. And how we fix it."

Leia nods, though there's a flicker in her eyes that suggests she's picked up on Poe's mood. "Everyone is gathering. We should join them."

***

All the familiar faces are there when they arrive. Admirals Ackbar and Statura, and Major Ematt; Rey and Finn; Snap and Jess and a few other pilots; Threepio and R2-D2. Kylo is actually gratified that the numbers seem to swell, rather than dwindle. It's a good sign when you're not greeted with empty spaces at a holotable.

"General," the Mon Calamari says, snapping to a formal stance.

"Admiral," Leia replies, giving him a nod. "Everyone."

The room falls silent, and Poe can feel the weight of the atmosphere. It hasn't quite been like this since… since the first time they got news of Snoke's whereabouts. The day he and Kylo…

No. _Stay here_.

"Before we begin," Leia says, "I have an important introduction to make – though, in some cases, it is a re-introduction. This is Sergeant Kes Dameron: Poe's father, and once a member of the unit known as the Pathfinders, the group who – amongst many other achievements – brought down the shield protecting the second Death Star over Endor. I have asked him here for two reasons: first, because he is family, and secondly because I intend to re-form the Pathfinders, and I want Kes to be a key part of that."

"I'll do whatever I can," Kes answers.

Poe knows his father still has a great many reservations about all this, but he's grateful that Kes is at least keeping them quiet in public. Morale will have been hit badly enough by what's happened today, without an old war hero telling them he's not sure any of this still has a point, and…

…OK, Poe really _is_ still angry…

"I know you will," Leia tells him. "It's a family trait." And she turns back to the room as a whole. "We have much to discuss. I'm sure you all know by now what has happened on Vikenza. A series of bombings, with casualty numbers in the hundreds – potentially higher – which has been laid at our feet. Whoever did this – and we are presuming it to be the First Order in some shape or form – is trying to paint us as terrorists, and that is something we cannot allow."

"Do we have any intelligence on who actually did it? Or have the authorities got any suspects in the frame?" Kylo asks.

"So far, no one has even claimed ownership of the attack," Ematt answers. "We're working as closely as we can with the Vikenzans, but they obviously don't want to associate with us. We're planning on sending in a team to do forensics."

"Though we are a little hindered by the fact that I don't have any agents active on Vikenza," Statura adds.

More and more he's turning into the Resistance's spymaster, and Poe often finds himself glad the man is on their side, and not just for the obvious reason.

"However," the Admiral continues, "I am moving someone into place. They won't have time to get into deep cover, but it should be enough to provide us with workable intel. For now, as Major Ematt says, there has been no formal declaration of responsibility, though we do know that there are multiple reports of a banner reading 'For the Resistance' being unfurled on the front of the primary target moments before it was destroyed."

"We're being set up," Poe cuts in. "This is the First Order – this is _Hux_. His leader is dead and he most likely has the remaining Knights of Ren to contend with. He's trying to poison the rest of the galaxy against us and we _cannot_ let him succeed."

"And we won't," Leia insists, levelly. "Whoever is responsible for this – and I agree someone in the First Order is the likely culprit – we need to find out the truth and expose it. Only then can we convince the galaxy that none of this was our doing."

"And we can't just… do the same?" Finn asks, sounding as frustrated as everyone else. 

"We can't stoop to their lows, kid," Han tells him, with a world-weary smile. "Plus, you know we'd get found out. And we'd need to blow up some folks as we didn't want blown up. Better save our munitions for the ones we want dead."

Chewie points out it's also wrong to blow up innocents.

"That, too," Han agrees.

"So we're going to send people to look into this… do we have any intelligence inside the Order, still?" Kylo asks. 

"We do," Statura replies, nodding. "My best source is still Copperwing, who remains in place aboard the _Finalizer_ , and the reports I'm getting back are… troubling. It looks as though General Hux has spoken with at least three senators in the last week, to say nothing of the fact that we believe the First Order is currently building something large in an uninhabited system on the edges of the Unknown Regions."

"If that's the case, we should act pre-emptively," Poe insists. "Take it down before whatever it is becomes fully functional."

"Would that we could," Statura answers. "The exact system is unknown. Copperwing has spent days trying to find the name, or the co-ordinates, but to no avail. And our immediate focus has to be the bombing on Vikenza. We must find some way to prove our innocence… or, at least, to predict where the next attack might be and expose the truth before it takes place."

"You think there'll be more?" Rey asks, softly.

"I know there will," the Admiral replies, gravely. "This has happened before. It was only a matter of time before it happened again."

"Then how _do_ we respond?" Poe cuts in, once more. He looks up as he speaks, and Snap catches his eye over the holotable, concern in his own, which makes Poe back down just a little, suddenly aware of how he must sound. "We have to do something," he goes on, but less sharply now. "We have to."

"I know," Leia answers. "But this time… I'm afraid to say weapons and battle-wings are not the answer. If, as seems to be the case, General Hux wishes to play politics… it's time I showed him how it's done. I'm going to Akiva, to meet with Senator Yassen-Ri. He's a long-time ally and he does owe us a favour or two, and between us I think we can set a suitable response in motion. In the meantime, Admiral Statura, Major Ematt, please continue your respective intelligence-gathering operations. If we can stop this happening again, it will go a long way towards proving we're not responsible for it."

"Don't forget I can always interrogate anyone we… need me to," Kylo points out, as delicately as he can. "As could Rey. In an emergency. I know it wouldn't be admissible as evidence by the Republic…"

Not that he wants to. Kylo would happily leave that aspect to the past, to training, or to theory. But if it protects billions of lives, potentially, he'll do it.

Han throws his son a look. "Better we don't go down that route."

"If we have to, I'm going down it," Kylo replies, quickly. 

Han looks like he might say more, then grunts. 

Poe, on the other hand, is suddenly – tellingly – quiet.

"The rest of you," Leia goes on, smoothly pulling the discussion around, "continue as before. We cannot let this hinder us. We have to stay strong."

With this said, all that remains is for the group around the table to disband once more, going back to their duties. Kylo immediately hurries off after his mother, and Poe is about to follow when he realises that Snap has already cut through the crowd and is advancing on him.

"Come on, you, outside," he says, in his no-nonsense tone. "I think we need to talk."

Opting not to argue, Poe lets Snap walk him out of the bunker, not saying anything until they're, if not alone, then at least out of earshot.

"You gonna tell me what's wrong?" the taller man starts off.

"Nothing's wrong," Poe lies. He really is terrible at lying, but there's no one – aside from Kylo – who sees through him as quickly and easily as Snap Wexley does.

"I've seen you bluff better than that after an entire bottle of Corellian brandy, Dameron," Snap replies, flatly. "Now, come on, out with it."

Some part of Poe actually considers refusing to answer, but then he catches himself, realising what he's thinking, and the confliction throws him further off-balance, making him respond without any kind of mental filter.

"Everything," he answers. "Everything is wrong. The First Order are painting us as terrorists, and now Statura tells us they're apparently building some new superweapon somewhere that we can't find. Hundreds of people were murdered on Vikenza for no reason other than to hurt _us_. General Organa all but ordered me to bring my father back here – my father who thinks this whole fight is now _pointless_ – and…"

He trails off, realising he may already have said too much, but Snap looks unperturbed.

"And?" the other man pushes.

"…and… nothing."

" _Dameron_."

Poe sighs. "…And then there's what happened on Chikara."

"The planet you and Kylo went to find?" Snap says. "You didn't get much of a chance to tell me what you were looking for there. Or… what you were looking for on Korriban."

So Poe does. He tells Snap about Korriban, about Revan, about the long-lost Eye of Chikara. The other man listens without interrupting, seeming a little stunned by what he's hearing (and, at the same time, perhaps not so much).

"So… you went in search of Chikara even though you knew this crystal thing wasn't there?"

"Yes," Poe answers. "It was the only way we could think of to help us work out where it might have been taken. The whole planet was… alive, in the Force. And, before we knew what was happening, we started _seeing things_."

Realisation dawns in Snap's eyes at once, in more ways than one. "Ah. That explains a great deal. Seeing things… like you did on Eigengrau?"

Snap is the only person, other than Kylo, who knows what Poe saw during the final test on Eigengrau. It's something he'd always meant to keep to himself, but there was a night – about a week after Kylo was captured by Snoke – when the walls came down and Poe ended up telling Snap most of it. He hadn't been able to stop himself, and he still feels guilty about having done it, but at the time… at the time, it had been the only way to stop himself breaking down completely.

"Yes… and no," Poe replies. "This time we didn't experience things directly, we only watched. But the themes were… similar."

Very similar. Could there be smaller crystals from Chikara on Eigengrau?

"It rattled us both," he goes on, not wanting to go into detail. "I haven't felt right since then, and everything… my father, the attack on Vikenza… it's only compounded the feeling further."

"Poe, that's a perfectly normal reaction," Snap points out. "Whatever you saw, plus the things that have happened… no one expects you to be happy about it. You _should_ be upset. Everyone is upset, certainly about Vikenza."

"I know. But that's the thing… I'm _not_ upset. Or, that's not the main thing I'm feeling."

"Then what..?"

" _Anger_ ," Poe cuts in. "Like I've never felt before, except… except towards Snoke."

"Have you talked to Kylo about it?"

"Of course. And it helped, it did, but… the feeling doesn't go away. I want to _act_ on it. I want the First Order to pay for what they did on Vikenza. For daring to claim we would ever do such a thing. I want to channel all this rage and _hurt_ them with it. I want…"

Snap grabs him by both shoulders, looking alarmed. "Poe. Take a breath. This isn't you. You know it isn't you. You're upset – rightly so – but you need to see past it."

"But that's just the thing. Maybe it _is_ me. Maybe I just needed this feeling to wake up inside me so that I could…"

"Could what?" Snap pushes, letting go of him and meeting his eyes. "What did you see on Chikara? Tell me. Tell me, or I'll ask Kylo, and I'll tell him _precisely_ why I need to know."

"…I saw my family dead," Poe answers, after a moment. "And then I saw myself and Kylo plotting to round up Force-sensitive children, and kill those who opposed us. And this time, I'm _confident_ I wasn't being mind-controlled. I wanted it."

Snap appears to consider this for a moment. He looks alarmed – anyone in their right mind would look alarmed – but still level. "And you think, because you keep seeing visions of yourself Falling, that it's going to happen?"

Damn the man for being so insightful. "I'm scared it might."

"Seriously? You? You're like a beacon of good everywhere you go. You're so good, you pulled Kylo _Ren_ back from the brink. And you might enjoy things a certain way in private, but the fact of the matter is, that man worships the ground you walk on. He'd _die_ before he let you Fall like that. And, for that matter, so would most of us. So take a breath, remember that you're not alone, and let's get started on clearing the Resistance's good name."

"…You should do this inspirational-talking thing for a living," Poe murmurs, looking a mixture of guilty and touched.

Snap folds his arms. "I _do_ do it for a living," he replies. "I'm _your_ best friend. Feel better?"

"…A little…"

"Good. Now, come along, we should…"

He falls silent as Kes Dameron heads over. "Am I interrupting?"

"Nope, I think we're done," Snap replies, and then he holds out a hand. "Snap Wexley."

"Kes Dameron," Kes answers, shaking his hand. "You must be the best friend Poe mentioned."

Snap gives an easy shrug. "Guilty as charged. Good to meet you at last."

Kes smiles. "Likewise. Poe, General Organa is looking for you. Kylo too, although perhaps 'looking for you' is the wrong term because he's the one who told me where you were."

"I'd better go find out why," Poe says, and then turns back to Snap. "Thanks, for… you know."

Snap nods. "Any time. And you really should talk to Kylo about it. For now… I'd better get back to the squadron. Gotta keep them in shape whilst their commander is busy."

"I can always count on you."

"And don't you forget it. See you later, Dameron. Uh… Dameron _s_."

And, with a grin, Snap heads off.

"That man is a saint for putting up with me," Poe murmurs.

"Don't knock it," Kes replies. "You've always been good at making people like you. Now, come on, we should find out what General Organa wants."

And so, side-by-side, they head further up the concourse, in search of Leia, and of Kylo.

***

"…still think you need more," Kylo mutters. "You're the Most Wanted on the First Order's hit list, you know. And they have to know you have links to Akiva, now." 

"You and Poe," Leia insists, firm but kind. "No one else. I'm trying to keep this subtle. I would rather not turn up with a massive entourage that everyone will notice. Besides… who better to protect me?"

"How about an entire squadron, plus Rey, and maybe Dad and Chewie?" Kylo knows he's fighting a losing battle, but that won't stop him trying. "You're more important to the war effort than anyone. If we lose you… If _I_ lose you…"

"Kylo," Leia says, gently, taking her son's hand for moment. "I will be _fine_. I've been doing this my whole life. And with you and Poe at my side, I will have nothing to fear."

At this point, she spots Poe himself approaching, Kes at his side, and gestures them closer.

"There you are. Poe, I have been talking to my son, and I want the two of you to accompany me to Akiva. For protection."

"…You need protecting?" Poe replies, looking surprised. "You're _Leia Organa_."

His mother-in-law smiles, and gives Kylo a warmly-knowing glance. "Quite. But better safe than sorry."

Kylo glowers at Poe for backing his mother. "She's also a valuable asset and my **mother** , and needs to be kept safe." He mostly sounds huffy, though. "Besides, we don't know what spies will be on Akiva." 

"Hence the escort," Leia says, putting a gentle hand on Kylo's arm. "Now… there are some people you all need to meet."

She leads them further up, to where a group of young soldiers are clustered together, talking quietly. Rey and Finn are here too, speaking to a couple of them, though they all fall silent as they see Leia approaching.

"Everyone," she says, "I believe some introductions are in order. This is Sergeant Kes Dameron. Kes… meet the new Pathfinders."

Finn snaps to attention, though he doesn't salute. The other soldiers all follow with barely a delay, eyes front and centre. 

"General. Sergeant," Finn greets them, a little formally.

Kylo has to hide a smile. Finn's been to dinner with his mother, so just because Poe's father is… oh. This does look a little nepotistic, doesn't it?

"At ease, all of you," Leia insists. "I wanted the chance to do this before I go offworld. You all know that the Pathfinders were once one of the Rebel Alliance's elite units, charged with the most dangerous and most important missions: a talented group of soldiers who left an indelible mark on the galaxy. You have all been chosen because of your dedication, and your courage, and your potential, which equals that of the brave men and women in whose footsteps you follow. As of today, you are the new Pathfinders, and I have every confidence that all of you will prove worthy of the name, and capable of what it entails."

"To that end, I have asked Sergeant Kes Dameron to come out of his well-earned retirement, to spearhead your training. As a man who fought with the original unit on numerous missions, I have no doubt as to his expertise. You all stand to learn a great deal from him."

Kes looks a little humbled, but he sounds sure of himself as he speaks next. "I won't let you down. I… _we_ … will make sure all this fighting is worth something. I am honoured to be asked to train you and to guide you. But… I am not the man who will lead you."

Clearly, he and Leia have already spoken about this, because she picks up smoothly where he leaves off. "I have had a leader in mind for some time, and I am very glad to make the announcement at last. There was no question of my choice, and no doubt as to my decision. The leader of the new Pathfinders… will be you, Finn."

Finn looks shocked, his eyes wide. "Who, me?" He stares around, waiting for people to laugh.

Kylo grins. "Yes, you, nerf. You deserve it, too. You're going to be an excellent commander, you know."

"He's right," says one of the soldiers to the side: a short, red-headed woman. "We've seen you in action, remember?"

"…that…" Finn clears his throat, and then stands proud. "It will be my honour, General." 

"You were the obvious choice," Leia tells him. "You've proven yourself multiple times. Kes will work with you, to co-ordinate the training process, but when it comes to missions, you will have sole command."

"This doesn't mean an end to the flying lessons," Poe adds, with a grin, glad to see some good come of this otherwise difficult day. "You can never have too many useful skills."

"What about me?" Rey asks, looking delighted for Finn. "Do you want me to train with them too?"

"I think it will be good for them to work with us," Kylo tells her. "And we can continue to train together, as well. But the more skills you can get, the better. I have Order training, so I have more… ah… military group experience. But I'll still come to learn some cohesion as well, if that is all right with you, Sergeant?" 

Kes nods. "Of course."

"Wonderful," Leia says. "Then I will leave you to it. I know you will all do the Resistance proud. In the meantime… Kylo, Poe, we should depart as soon as possible."

Some days, they just never stop.

***

Akiva.

Sooner or later, everything seems to end up back here. Poe brings the _Phoenix_ down over the capital city, Myrra, heading for the landing bay on the edge of Senator Yassen-Ri's personal estate.

They're not meeting in the Senate Hall – which would draw attention – though they do swoop over it en route to their destination. It seems to have recovered from the last time Poe and Kylo were here, during the operation to drive the First Order out, though Poe feels an odd sense of memory all the same.

They finally come in to land, clunking smoothly down onto the pad, before Poe puts the ship in low-power mode.

"Well, here we are," he says. "Let's hope the Senator is feeling helpful."

"He will be," Leia answers, calm and confident.

"How well did you know him before the incident last time?" Kylo asks. His mother has always moved in these circles, even after she moved to the Rebellion.

"Well enough," she answers. "He was one of the staunchest campaigners for Akiva to join the Republic, and he has always been vocal in his support of the Resistance. That may well be one of the key reasons that the First Order chose to attack his world."

The three of them head out of the ship and down the landing ramp. It's late afternoon here, and the air is still hot and a little heavy, the sunlight hitting them as soon as they step from the shadow of their shuttle.

Senator Yassen-Ri and a small accompaniment of staff come forward to greet them, and he smiles mostly at Leia when he does. "It's good to see you all again, though I wish the circumstances were different. Please, can my staff get you anything? Do you need refreshments?" 

"It is good to see you too, Senator," Leia answers, graciously. "I would like to move to our business as soon as possible. Given what has happened… we must work on formulating a response before this whole situation spirals out of control."

"Of course," he replies, and waves a hand to the side. "Would you care to follow me?"

Yassen-Ri takes them in through the double doors towards the centre of the building, and to his drawing room. "Will your advisors be coming, too?" 

"We're here to ensure the General's safety," Kylo says, "…and offer any advice she might need."

"We'll talk in private for now," Leia tells the Senator. "I wanted my son and son-in-law on hand in case anything happens. For the time being… I think it is wise to presume that any pro-Resistance political figures should consider themselves at risk." A wry smile. "More so than usual."

All of which is very true, and very sensible, and very much leaves out the line 'also Kylo insisted'.

"Very well. There's an ante-room you can make your own, and my staff will see to any needs you have. I can assure you that my rooms and security are both on point." The Senator doesn't sound offended by the presence of two bodyguards, especially as he knows their relationships. 

"And I must say, before we leave you: congratulations, you two. Your mother told me you'd tied the knot."

Kylo is surprised to be told this, and he smiles shyly. "Thank you, Senator. I have never been happier."

Poe smiles too, brushing his hand against Kylo's as he replies. "I'll second that. Best thing I ever did."

"The first year is the strangest, and then you seem to find your feet. Or, in my experience, anyway. I wish you both luck and happiness."

"As do we all," Leia agrees. "Now… let's go inside."

***

Before long, Leia and Yassen-Ri have settled down to talk, with Kylo and Poe in the adjacent ante-room, half waiting and half keeping watch. When they're alone, Poe paces to the main window, staring out at the view of the city, stretching into the distance: a swathe of golden buildings beneath a vivid blue sky.

But he hardly sees it. His mind is… elsewhere.

"This takes me back," Kylo says, sitting on a chair made for a much shorter being, his legs bent underneath and his toes pressed into the floor. "Used to spend a lot of time in places like this, growing up. Never really understood how adults could talk for so long."

He can feel Poe's distress, and wants to pull him back to here and now. 

Poe turns to look at him, a wry smile on his face. "I guess that's politics for you. I don't think I'd ever have the patience for it, myself. Though I admire those who do. Or, at least… those who do and don't lose their souls in the process."

"You want to talk about it, or want me to distract you?" the Sith asks, head to one side. His hair falls forwards, and he brushes it back behind his ear. It's getting long: he's going to need to get it cut or start clasping it at this rate. He's just been a little busy of late. 

That makes Poe look over, his wry smile returning, albeit with a warm edge. "I'm sorry," he says, softly. "I've been a little out of it since Chikara. Guess it's just been a rough… howeverlong."

He considers letting it stop at that, but decides maybe he shouldn't, and goes on instead. "You'd tell me if I was… acting strangely, wouldn't you?"

"Of course. You are… distant, maybe? Distracted. More like something's… like you're trying to work something out. But what are you worried you'll act like?" Because Kylo knows people have periods of being 'not' themselves, without it being anything major.

He also knows when it's something else entirely, first hand. 

Poe sighs, looking down. He'd be lying if he said he wanted to talk about this – though, at the same time, he knows he needs to. "Since Chikara… I haven't felt right. I don't just mean I'm unsettled by what happened – though I am – or by the prospect of the Knights of Ren finding that crystal before we do. It's… I face dangerous situations every day. It's normal. But it doesn't stop me… being _me_ … but…"

Another sigh. He is not explaining himself well, and he knows it.

"…What if I'm losing myself?"

"You…" Kylo wants to answer knee-jerk, but he also doesn't want to respond to something as important as that without thought. "You're you, Poe. And I know who you are, so if you changed… I would know that, too. I don't think you're losing yourself, but if you… could tell me what's got you thinking that?"

His feet scrape from under the chair, reaching out before him, long legs cracking knee-joints in the process. "There's so much of you that you could never be lost. Changed, maybe, but every day changes us. Who you are deep down doesn't change, though. Who you really are is always there, underneath, and I won't let you forget who that is."

"I know that," Poe replies, softly – and he does. He does. "And… I can't quite put my finger on why I feel it. I just… do. But I can't deny it, all the same." He shakes his head. "Maybe it's just the last few days catching up with me. They haven't exactly been easy."

The pilot looks up again, his eyes distant, following the hazy lines of far-off buildings visible through the broad window.

"Did the meeting with your father go better, or worse, than you expected?" Kylo asks, softly. They'd exchanged heartfelt opposition, but Kes had agreed to come with them, after all. Kylo remembers the fear before going to D'Qar, so he can empathise, for once. 

"Better, I think," Poe answers. "I mean… part of me worried that he might refuse to have anything to do with the Resistance. So the fact he agreed to come back to Tahanan and help us… that's a big win. I think maybe some part of him was waiting for me to do it. Waiting for me to turn up and talk him out of retirement."

Poe certainly hopes so. Partly because it makes the choice itself more positive, and partly because it removes the risk that it happened solely because of the news from Vikenza. Because that – Poe getting what he wanted at the cost of hundreds of lives and the Resistance's reputation – would be wrong beyond words.

"I don't think he'd have come back unless you were there, Poe. He needed to see it was still worth the risk and pain." The Knight slips to his feet, paces closer, his footsteps all but silent.

He isn't used to being the strong one, but he knows it's well overdue. A hand on Poe's shoulder, thumb brushing his collarbone. "We thought Starkiller would be hard. We thought _Snoke_ would be hard. Hux? He'll go down, same as any other target."

Poe looks up at Kylo, his eyes a little haunted. "They _were_ hard," he says, softly. "Seven lost at Starkiller. Four at Zekkan. And… what happened to us… to _you_ …"

It may have been weeks – weeks that, on the whole, have been the best of his life – but the wounds are still there, and right now he feels them deeply.

"We have to stop him. We have to _end this_. We have to show the First Order that they can't push us around anymore."

"Hux doesn't have the Force. Danika and the other Knights are not actually a match for me and Rey, unless they somehow manage to gang up on us six to two. Hux is just a General, and he's lost his flagship and countless thousands. Seven? Four? How many of them do you think we've killed?"

Kylo knows the numbers from the projections, and the figures are so high it doesn't even compute, not any more. It's turned into non-numbers, and still a fraction of what death they've averted. 

Poe knows what Kylo is saying is right. He does. He knows that their carefully-executed tactical strikes allow them to take out large First Order targets with minimal Resistance losses, and he knows that the eleven pilots he lost at Starkiller and Zekkan are the tiniest fraction compared to what the Order lost. A planet-sized base and a Star Destroyer? On some levels, it doesn't bear thinking about.

On others, it _does_. Because they were First Order loyalists, and those eleven…

They were the Resistance's. They were _his_.

That cold anger flares in Poe's chest again, sourceless and undeniable. " _Not enough_."

Kylo's voice gets firmer, but not with anger. "How many lives have you saved, Poe Dameron? How many have you kept from a red death, or a fate worse than death under a broken Master's lies?"

He's convinced. He is. He's also convinced he can convince Poe, which is the dangerous part.

The sharpness in Kylo's tone is more than enough to get Poe's attention, and he looks – for a moment – like his mind has just snapped back to the here and now. "I know the good I've done," he answers, more softly. "I know that between us, you and I and my pilots most likely saved multiple planets from being obliterated. Tens of billions of lives. I know that you and Rey killed a man so evil and hateful that he made Emperor Palpatine look like the sensible option. I know. And if I died, right here and now, I would do so without a shred of regret, just as I know that the people I've lost would undoubtedly say the same."

"And yet, at the same time… I still had to explain myself to my own father. I still had to listen to the news that hundreds were dead and we were being blamed for it. The rest of the galaxy just sits back and watches whilst these _heroes_ fight and die for them, and the Republic itself won't acknowledge what's really going on. This…" A breath. Trying not to lose himself. "This is why I left them. And even after we saved those tens of billions of lives, they're still doing it."

Kylo grabs for his hands, pulls him gently around to face him, looks down with pity and empathy. "My parents fought the Emperor. My uncle had to watch his father die to save him. My mother's parents – the ones she'd known all her life – and her whole planet… this fight does not stop. It won't stop with us. If we had children, our children would live with evil still in the galaxy. Don't let your father's lack of strength deceive you: _this is right_. This is why you joined the Resistance, and why you've brought so many people with you. Every. Single. One that **you** win to the cause is worth a thousand on the other side."

The Sith cocks his head to the window. "Most of those people don't have the stomach, the heart, or the will to face evil. They want to pretend it isn't here, because if they say it loudly enough, maybe they will die of natural causes before it affects them. But we're here. And a **senator** is here. And we'll use their slip up – their escalation – to prove their danger to the Republic, and get them to back us."

"We have to," Poe says, softly, but it is not a calm softness. Not at all. "We can keep destroying the First Order's superweapons, but we're never going to win this that way. All we can do is hold them off. This will only end when the Republic wakes up and accepts what's really happening. When they realise they have to step in. When they realise they have to step _up_."

Kylo smiles, sadly, knowingly. "Exactly. And Hux might think he's winning by doing this, but in reality he'll lose because of it. We'll get the politicians and the people on our side, we'll win the war for hearts and minds, and then we'll win the _other_ war." 

"I hope you're right," Poe replies. "I truly do."

He's been sure of the same for so long. Why does he doubt it now?

The pilot shakes his head just a little, half at himself, and half at the galaxy as a whole. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course." There is no hesitation in the answer, though Kylo looks curious all the same. He doesn't know why Poe has to ask: they're as deeply bound as two individuals can get. He's long since surrendered to the idea of nothing being truly private again, and it doesn't bother him in the slightest.

Not now, anyway.

The pause before the question itself betrays Poe's own hesitancy at what he's about to say, as well as why he asked if he could ask it before he did. Before he _does_.

"…What do you plan to do with the Eye of Chikara when we find it?"

Oh. Right. Kylo swallows, and… "I want… if possible, I want to use it. At least once, to… find others like me. I agree it's dangerous, and it likely needs destroying, but to do so without trying to use it for good one last time…" 

Poe nods, carefully. "I see." He himself is not sure what he thinks is best. Using it sounds dangerous, if not for the user then certainly for the people whose identities it would give up. But, on the other hand, it would allow them to find more Force-users. More… potential Knights of Eigengrau. "You think it's… safe?"

"No, I don't think it's safe. Not considering what we saw back on that planet, but… sometimes you have to do things a little unsafe, don't you?" If he only did the safe, well… where would he be right now? Not here, married to the most wonderful man in the galaxy.

Kylo pushes a strand of hair back from Poe's temple. "What do you want me to do with it?"

The touch makes Poe's eyes flicker with pleasure, and with something deeper. "I don't know," he admits. "Part of me – a large part – wants to destroy it, both to keep it from falling into the wrong hands, and… to keep it from doing harm entirely. But another part of me…"

He almost wants to pull away, before he says the rest, and it takes concentration not to.

"…another part of me wants to keep it. Use it. To swell the ranks of the Knights of Eigengrau so we can take on the First Order, regardless of what the Republic does."

Is that wrong? He isn't sure he even knows anymore. He doesn't want to hurt children and he doesn't want a superweapon, but an army of Force-sensitive allies…

"I know. I know, Poe, I do… and I think if we use it within reason, with… safeguards in place… I don't want to conscript people, to draft them against their will." Anything but. Kylo would hate himself for that, he would.

"But… we could find the first group, make our Order sound, and when we're stronger we'll destroy the crystal so it's never used for evil. That's… that's what I want. I want to make sure the Jedi and the Sith don't die in me and Rey."

"I want that too." Poe's voice is so level now. "You could put an end to this, to all of this. Your uncle couldn't do it years ago because he had no one else, but you… you could. You could end the First Order and make sure it wasn't reborn under a new name."

You could make all this fighting mean something. Or… no. It does mean something. Of course it does. _But it could mean something more_.

"Poe…" Doesn't he see there will always be evil? "I can't wipe evil from the galaxy. You do… realise that, right? You do know it… maybe it will take ten generations, but there will always _be_ a way for people to group under a banner of hate. I'm not able to magically remove that from the universe."

"Of course I do. I've seen more than enough to be certain of that. _More_ than enough. But that doesn't mean it can't be **better**."

It has to be. This _yearning_ in his chest nigh-on demands it.

"Better, I can do. Perfect… isn't really Sithly possible." Kylo grabs the back of Poe's head, pulls him in to kiss across his brow. "But definitely I'll make it safer, or die in the attempt. Is that good enough?"

"You know it is," Poe answers. "Except that you're not allowed to die. So you'll just have to win instead."

"Forbid my death, and I'll never die," Kylo agrees, and holds him at arm's length. "But you, too. You're not allowed to die, either. Understand?"

That makes Poe smile. "Consider it a promise," he says. "You know I'd do anything for you."

"I think… I think I hear some politicians coming." Kylo pulls him in for one last kiss, then just takes his hand to wait. "So far, our presence seems to have deterred any assassins. I'm not relaxing until we get her back home, though."

"Neither am I," Poe concurs. "Not in the slightest."

And maybe not even then.


	13. Game Of Senators

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all! It's time for our next chapter, in which Leia has a plan, Hux has A Plan, and the Knights of Eigengrau have dinner.
> 
> And no, we're not sorry for the chapter title! ;-)

When Leia's meeting with Senator Yassen-Ri is over, she, Kylo and Poe leave Akiva once more. They're still trying to keep the trip under the radar – in more ways than one – and none of them wants to be away from Tahanan for too long, given everything that's going on.

The inside of the _Phoenix_ is quiet as they set off, Poe bringing the ship up and out of the atmosphere and taking them briskly into hyperspace. When that's done, he sits back, and breathes out.

"Did it go well?" he asks, looking over at Leia.

She nods. "I think so. It's early days, but with help from Yassen-Ri – and a few of our allies – I believe we can make progress." A soft sigh. "I hope so, at least. The alternatives are troubling."

"How is the mood of the Senate?" Kylo asks. "And how many senators can we count on?" Not that he understands enough of how this works, but perhaps he knows more than the layperson does. 

"From what Yassen-Ri tells me, the Senate itself is split multiple ways," Leia answers. "Some believe what the newsreels are saying, some are decrying it as vicious First Order propaganda. Some want to declare war, some want to sanction us. Some would brand us terrorists, others would hail us heroes. It's a mess."

She smiles, wryly. "When is it not? It will take time for the real battle-lines to form. But Yassen-Ri thinks a number of the other senators will declare support for us without prompting. As to how many… that is harder to say. An emergency session of the Senate has been called for two days' time, and after that… after that, we will have a better idea."

"What happens if they table a motion to have us sanctioned? We're working _for_ them. If they disown us any further, we'll be seen as vigilantes, and we'll have even less support than we do now! We can't let them get that far!" Even Kylo understands that much. 

"I know that," Leia says, carefully, meeting her son's eyes. "And it is a risk, more so than ever. Yassen-Ri will speak on my behalf in the Senate session, with the hope being that the story of Akiva's liberation will play well as backing to his argument. But if the tides look to be turning against us… I will go myself, under the Akivan banner, and make our case. And if _that_ does not work…"

"...We can't let them do this to us," Poe cuts in. He looks exhausted, and not just from having had very broken sleep over the last few days. "After everything we've been through, everything we've endured…"

"We will do everything we can to prevent it," Leia replies. "If that is not enough… we will keep fighting. We did not surrender in the face of Starkiller and Snoke. We will not surrender in the face of _politics_."

"You know how fickle senators can be – no offence meant, Mother – but they are. That's how Palpatine got control in the first place, isn't it?" She was too young to remember his actual rise, but she'd been brought up by an adoptive father who'd seen it first hand.

It's not something that got discussed much, when Kylo was younger. Even though he'd asked lots of questions, his mother hadn't always been very in-depth with her responses, because of his age, he supposes. 

Leia nods, eyes suddenly full of memory. "Yes. My father – my adoptive father, Bail Organa – told me the story in depth when I was growing up. Palpatine started out as the Senator from a minor Mid-Rim world – Naboo – and ended up as Supreme Chancellor. From there, having himself declared Emperor was only a minor step in comparison. And he did it by making the right friends, spreading the right rumours, telling the right lies. He won people over by playing on their fears and making them believe only a strong and powerful military force would keep them safe. By the time his true intentions became clear, it was too late to stop him."

She clasps her hands tight in her lap, looking down. "It was many years before the Emperor finally dissolved the Senate altogether, but they were basically powerless as soon as he took over. And though there are many who remember those days, and many more – like me – who experienced the results later on, the Senate itself hasn't learned. The whole system teeters on a knife-edge most of the time… but, no matter how difficult it is, it is infinitely better than the alternatives."

"I agree," Kylo says. "One person shouldn't rule over so many. We need the different voices, but we also need to find some way to make them listen to reason, instead of panic…" But how do you do that, when it seems like it is the natural, sentient response to anything?

"Can't we use that? Can't we remind them how – how xenophobic the Empire was, or will that cause Humans to hate us?" he asks. 

"If we do it right, we can use it," Leia answers. "We can remind them that the Empire was xenophobic, and we can remind them how much the more distant worlds, particularly the Outer Rim, suffered under them, regardless of who lived there. We have a great deal of evidence to back up our claim, much of it emotive. But in the end… if the Senate is swayed against us, none of it will be enough. We must be prepared for both outcomes, because you can rest assured that we will keep fighting either way."

"But… if they do outlaw us…" Kylo's eyes widen. "Then they'll legitimise the Order. Won't they? That's what Hux wants?" 

"In so many words, yes, they will legitimise the Order," Leia agrees, sombrely. "And if they do… Hux and his allies will capitalise on it. And yes, eventually that might well prove our point, but at what cost?"

"History will repeat itself," Poe says.

And all the fighting will have been for nothing.

"We can't afford to just let them destroy the galaxy to prove they will!" Kylo huffs, hand going to feel for the weight of his sabre-hilt. "We have to find some way to stop that before it happens. The Senate can't be _that_ blind, twice, can they?"

"Oh, they definitely could," Leia tells him, still sounding so very calm. "But that does not mean they _will_ be. That's why we're acting now – to stop this spiralling out of our control. To make sure people don't get caught up in a wave of hate and fear that blinds them to the truth."

"I wish I could just… why don't I just cut off his head? Surely they'd run out of Generals eventually," Kyo gripes, a kick of one foot at the air. 

"I considered asking you to do it," Leia admits, suddenly, her voice betraying how much the thought unsettles her, despite everything. "Given the fact that you were able to kill Snoke… I considered sending you after Hux."

"Why didn't you?" Poe asks.

"Because if he dies, someone else will take his place," Leia answers. "And if they're less stable, personally or militarily, they could quickly turn out to be very much worse. Plus there's the fact that Snoke wanted to goad you into a fight, so he let you get close, whereas Hux wouldn't hesitate to blast you out of the sky long before you managed to set foot on his ship."

"I guess we can't just find his flagship and destroy that?" Kylo asks. They took down the Starkiller and the _Decimator_ , surely they can blow up another Star Destroyer? 

"It may come to that," Leia replies. "The First Order are keeping their troop movements covert and tracking their ships down is getting increasingly difficult. No doubt this is in response to what happened to the _Decimator_. When their fleet is together, we don't have the firepower to take them on. But if we can locate the _Finalizer_ when it is alone… we may stand a chance."

"What about Statura's spy?" Poe asks, suddenly. "Copperwing. They're still on the _Finalizer_ , aren't they?"

Leia nods. "We believe so. They've been dark for several days, however, so it's possible their cover is at risk again."

"Did…" Kylo pauses. "Did… they… used to send intel back on me?" He's never asked before, it's never occurred to him to even think it.

His mother's eyes go a little distant and sad. "Yes," she answers. "They did. Just snippets – Copperwing has never been able to risk sending long messages, given the risk of detection – but quite a number of them. It was… all I had, for a number of years."

"Did I know them?" he asks, just as quietly. "Or did they simply use First Order intel?" 

"I don't know," is Leia's response. "I have no idea who Copperwing is. Only Statura and a couple of his team have ever had contact with them. The only thing I know is that they're not a Stormtrooper, but beyond that… they could be anyone."

"I see." Kylo doesn't know what else to say, really. "I used to check you weren't dead, but that was all I could bring myself to do. I knew if I looked too deeply, he would expect me to kill you." 

"You're home now," his mother reminds him. "That's what matters most. You're home, and you're free."

"And you have me," Poe adds, feeling the need to lighten the mood.

"And you have Poe," Leia agrees, with a little smile. "And I know what we're facing now isn't easy, for any of us. But none of us is facing it alone."

"Don't you worry it'll never stop?" Kylo asks. He's asking more for Poe, than for himself. He wants her to assuage his fears the way Kes doesn't seem able to. "You saw the Empire end, and the Order rise, after all." 

"Of course I do," Leia answers, levelly. "It is my second greatest fear." No prizes for guessing the first. "But it _will_ never stop if we just sit back and let it happen. ' _You fight for what you believe in, or you lie down and let evil triumph_ '. A brilliant young pilot said that to me once, a long time ago. And she certainly knew what she was talking about."

Kylo smiles. "I wish I'd met her. She sounds smart." He knows full well who his mother is talking about, and he slants his eyes towards Poe. 

"She was," Poe says, chest aching a little with the memory.

"Did Shara ever tell you the story about Naboo?" Leia asks, suddenly.

"I know she mentioned it, but I don't remember much," Poe answers. "It happened when I was still very young. All I really know is that she was on Naboo when the remnants of the Empire attacked, and she helped fend them off."

Now Leia grins. "Your mother was far too modest. She led a three-woman fighter squadron up against the Empire's forces, preventing them from ripping the whole planet's atmosphere apart. And we did it in pre-Imperial-era starfighters."

Poe stares at her. "Wait, 'we'?"

Leia nods. "Yes. I know how to fly, and I was better at it back then. Shara flew in the lead, with me and the Queen of Naboo as her two wingwomen." A little shake of the head. "She was better than either of us, but she still spent the entire time calling us 'Your Highness'. It's one of the reasons I dropped the title, in the end. Without her, we might well have lost the planet."

"See?" Kylo says. "Imagine the number of stories, the number of planets, we've saved… the number we still will." The ship is flying itself, so Kylo reaches over to clutch his husband's knee. "We matter. All of us. And your mother would be so damn proud of you, you know. She wouldn't want us to give up." 

"I know," Poe answers. "And we won't. You can rest assured of that." It's one of the few things he _is_ sure of, right now. They won't ever give up.

Leia looks between the two of them, obviously realising that there are some undertones to this that she's not aware of, but clearly opting not to ask. She still smiles, though, and nods in agreement. "None of us will give up. We keep fighting until we win this."

"Speaking of… are you planning on bringing anyone else out of retirement?" Kylo asks. 

"I might be," is Leia's response, a twinkle in her eyes. "I might be."

***

It's late in the artificial day when General Hux arrives back at his office.

He's been down in the officers' gym for the last hour – it really is the only way to work off all his excess energy, and he's had rather more of it of late – and now he has one more meeting to deal with before he can finally get some peace and quiet to concentrate on everything _else_ he needs to get done.

The only saving grace is that the meeting is with Lieutenant Mitaka, and not with any of the Knights of Ren. He has three of them to contend with now, though at least the other two are less of an issue than their leader.

Hux is confident the tall one is flirting with his Stormtroopers, though, and that simply is not appropriate. Don't these people have _any_ sense of decorum?

He's barely gotten in through the door when he hears the chime ring and sighs. Mitaka is nothing if not flawlessly punctual. "Come in, Lieutenant," he calls out, trying not to sound annoyed at the prospect.

"General," the subordinate says, sliding in as if not touching the ground. He blinks owlishly at the other man, always reserved and two steps from fleeing. 

"There you are," Hux says, as if he's been waiting. "We need to discuss the Plan."

The spoken capital has started to become a thing, and he can't quite shake it. It just… wants to be there.

Mitaka squirms. "Sir… does the… uh, Plan possibly need naming? In case we have other plans, too?" 

Hux sighs. They already have plenty of plans. But only one of them has a capital. "Fine. Operation Vengeance. How about that?"

"...that. Uh. Is good." But. There's an unspoken but. 

" _But_?" Now it's a spoken one.

"It… looks… like we're petty?" Mitaka looks ready to duck for cover. "Maybe just a little?" 

" _Fine_ ," Hux says, again. He does not have time for this. He does, however, need to name the thing before he accidentally calls it 'The Plan' in front of Danika. He thinks rapidly, needing barely a pause before he says, "Operation Sixty-Six." Historical connotations most assuredly deliberate.

"...that… is very emotive, and not entirely appropriate, as we haven't had sixty-five previous Plans." Oh, he is going to get airlocked. "Might I suggest… uh, Operation Alderaan?" 

Hux is about to snap something back at the man, and then he stops. Operation Alderaan. One of the Empire's greatest victories, and one very much targeted at Leia Organa. Yes.

The General nods. "That will work. We need to discuss it. Specifically, our next target. I have spoken to Captain Adrienne at length, and she has put together a unit to carry out the attack. We only need to decide where to send them."

"I have prepared some dossiers of potential targets. There are several hubs of Resistance sympathisers – normally ex-Rebellion – where they have declared their support, but have not joined in the fighting. At least, not that we can see. If we target them…"

Mitaka holds out a holotablet. "The first is a contingent of ex-pat Alderaanians, the second is a retired General, and the third is a weapons seller with a history of running guns for the Rebels."

Hux takes the tablet, considering the options carefully. They all sound like good targets, but this has to be about more than just hurting the Resistance. He has to consider the tactical implications, and the political ones. "Tell me about the Alderaanians," he says.

"They are living in a proto-colony on Sullust. They moved there following the fall of the Empire, and have begun trying to rebuild the Alderaanian traditions in microcosm," he says. "They are not militarised, but they are outspoken in their support of General Organa." 

Perfect. Hux wants multiple casualties – even though a focused assassination would be unsettling too – and the Alderaanian connection is sure to elicit a more emotional response. And a more _personal_ one.

"Yes," he says. "They would make an excellent target." Plus, Sullust is a primarily non-Human world, so any collateral damage will be an added bonus. "How large is the colony?"

"Several hundred to a thousand, maximum," Mitaka replies. "First generation Alderaanians, and also their spouses and children." 

Hux nods. "Perfect. Provide Captain Adrienne with the relevant intel, and instruct her to begin formulating a plan of action. I want to make our next move as soon as possible, whilst the Resistance is still reeling from the first, and while the galaxy as a whole is still questioning their real motivations."

"Aye, Sir," the Lieutenant replies. "Is there anything else?" 

"Yes. Pull together the list of senators loyal to our cause and arrange meetings with as many of them as possible. It needs to be under the radar, but I'm not averse to having some of the less-important ones come to us, if it can be done without arousing suspicion. Much as I detest politicians, the battle in the Senate is inevitable, and one we must be part of. And for that… we need the right kind of soldiers."

And if they think they will gain further power from it, all thanks to us, so much the better.

"Of course. I will have them added to your calendar. I am assuming this information is still under the classification levels of Operation Alderaan?" 

'Operation Alderaan'. What was wrong with 'The Plan'?

Hux nods. "Yes. Top-level clearance. If anyone starts asking questions they shouldn't, have them referred to the Intelligence Unit for investigation."

"Yes, Sir." Mitaka slams his heels together. "I will get to your orders right away." 

"Good. That will be all, Lieutenant."

Hux waits until Mitaka has left the room, not moving until the door thunks shut, leaving him alone. When he is, he paces to the window, staring out at the dark of space for a few moments, considering these latest developments, to say nothing of his new target.

Operation Alderaan. Yes. He has to admit, it is a perfect choice of name. The Empire's defining achievement, and one born of hard work, military precision, and technical excellence. Grand Moff Tarkin's greatest moment.

The act of a _soldier_ , rather than…

...a **Force-user**.

***

It's late evening by the time the _Phoenix_ arrives back at Tahanan. And, despite it all, Poe can't help a smile at the thought that he might actually get to sleep a night in his own bed, rather than snatching a few hours here and there during hyperspace journeys.

First, though, food sounds like a good idea. Plus, he and Kylo need to sit down with Rey and Finn, to discuss what happened on Chikara, and what they're going to do next. Which is how the four of them end up around a table in the corner of the mess hall, settling to have their evening meal together and – more importantly – to get some important things discussed.

Rey is the first to speak. "So. Chikara. Tell us _everything_."

Kylo makes a noise of distaste, and then realises she really doesn't know. "Well. As expected, the crystal wasn't there. The whole planet, though… it buzzed with the Force. It wasn't… evil, per se, or even 'Dark', but… sinister?" he glances to Poe for his assessment on that front. 

"'Sinister' is putting it mildly," Poe agrees. "The whole place felt _wrong_ , even to me. Perpetually twilit, and covered in storms. And then there were the visions…"

"Visions?" Rey repeats. There's a flicker of alarm in her eyes, and Poe guesses the memories of the final test on Eigengrau must still be foremost in her mind.

"I'm guessing they weren't telling you where to go and how to save everything?" Finn asks. He doesn't look too keen, either.

"Well, in a manner. First we saw the past, then we saw… we saw us, with the Eye. And lastly we saw a planet with a huge building constructed around the crystal itself." Kylo looks to Poe, then back to the others. "It was filled with blood."

Poe is almost glad Kylo hasn't mentioned what they saw themselves _doing_ with the Eye, although he knows it's going to come up sooner or later.

"It was horrific," he says, shuddering at the memory. "We had to walk through it, although why… I don't know."

But he can think of several possibilities. And none of them are good.

Rey looks a little shaken as well. "Do you think this… this building of blood… is real?"

"The building, yes. The blood… I don't know how that could possibly work. There was no source of it, so it could have been metaphorical, or it could have been a warning. We know that… Force-visions aren't always precise, or even true. They're possible futures." Like the one where Kylo took the Order from Snoke. He's very grateful that never happened.

"How do we know for _certain_ , though?" Finn asks. "I mean. They could… still happen?"

"They could," Poe agrees. "But… I think we have an element of choice in the matter. We can go down the paths we see, or… not."

"What else did you see in there?" Rey asks, suddenly, looking straight at Poe.

"Nothing good," he replies, still opting not to elaborate.

For a moment, Rey looks as though she might push the matter, but then, instead, she asks, "So… if the Eye wasn't there, do you have any clue as to where it is now?"

"We looked at the stars, and tried to remember them. BB-8 is currently working with our star-charts to plot where we were in the vision," Kylo says, sombre and quiet. "It looked like it was a Sith world. It was not very pleasant, so it won't be habitable. Or if it is, it's borderline."

"Can BB-8 find it like that?" Finn doesn't know droids as well as others do. "Could R2-D2 help?"

"If it can be done, BB-8 can do it," Poe answers. "He has to calculate the layout of the stars against known galactic charts, looking for similarities, and try to triangulate possible locations for the planet. Assuming we were able to remember enough about the stars from the vision we saw – and assuming those stars are _real_ – he should be able to work it out eventually. If not… we may have to find another way. But it might well be days before we know for sure."

"Do we need to know anything else?" Finn asks.

"...other than it's giant, red, and makes you feel uncomfortable? Not… now." Maybe later, Kylo thinks. "It isn't a nice thing. If we – when we – get hold of it, we'll need to be careful." 

"What _are_ we going to do with it when we get hold of it?" Rey asks, her own tone cautious. "All the signs point to this thing being incredibly dangerous. I agree that we need to keep it from falling into enemy hands, but… what are your plans for it?"

"...find the first recruits, then destroy it forever," Kylo answers, immediately.

Rey looks relieved, more than anything else. "I think that might be for the best. I know we'd be losing something incredibly powerful, but… we'd also be making the galaxy safer."

"The galaxy survived without it for long enough, I'm sure we'll…" Kylo looks between them. "Can we make a pact, a promise? Here, us four? No matter what happens: we… destroy it, in the end?"

Some part of Poe still isn't sold on that idea, even though he knows how dangerous the thing is. Even though he knows how devastating it would be in the wrong hands… or even the right ones.

But he nods, trying not to let his hesitancy show. "Yes. We destroy it in the end."

Rey is quicker to answer, holding eye-contact with Kylo as she nods. "Agreed. It's the wisest course of action."

"...I'm all in favour of killing-people-things being gone," Finn agrees. "The less mass-murdering weapons the better."

Kylo glances at Poe, seeing some of his reticence, and choosing not to highlight it just now. Instead: "Okay. Well… what about what you've been up to? How has Poe's father been treating you?"

"He's a harsh taskmaster," Finn replies, warmly. "But he knows his stuff. You can tell it's the kind of stuff from experience, not from a holo."

Poe smiles. "He'll do right by you. You can count on that. And if all else fails, try getting him to tell you stories of his time in the Rebellion. He's had more than his fair share of adventures. And then there's you… How's it feel, having your own unit?"

If it's anything like the first time Poe was given command of his own squadron, equal parts amazing and terrifying would pretty much sum it up.

"Honestly?" Finn looks between them, glances to make sure no one can see. "I'm--"

"Terrified?" Kylo offers. He's been there, after all, with Rey.

"Is that crazy? I mean, I really want to do a good job, but… yeah. I didn't expect to be responsible for other people. How do you even… cope?"

"You make them your world," Poe answers, oddly softly. "You live for them, live to make them better, live to see them succeed. You never ask anything of them that you wouldn't do yourself, you tell them plain when they screw up, and you admit it when you do. You lead from the front, you defend from the front, you celebrate from the front. And you never let them forget why we do what we do. You never let them forget what we're fighting for."

"Where was that speech when I needed dead Jedi and Sith to encourage me?" Kylo asks, with soft amusement. 

Finn scrubs at his short hair. "Yeah. They're… really good, all of them. And it's a lot to take in, learning everything they do, and then other stuff on top."

"You'll be great at it, Finn." Kylo knows he will; he has that quality that makes people believe in him, follow him. He can sense it.

"You will," Poe agrees. "And General Organa wouldn't have trusted you with it if she didn't think the same. This is too important to risk on someone we're not completely confident in – which should tell you all you need to know. And you're not doing this alone. You have my dad heading up the training, you have Rey, you have us. And you have the new Pathfinders. They were carefully chosen, too, and before long you'll all be a force to be reckoned with."

"You two gonna show up any time?" Finn asks. "Or are you running off again?"

"About that… I'm sorry. But I think we should train where we can, but also limit the time Rey and I are together, off-world." Kylo looks at her, waiting to see her reaction.

"That would seem to be the wisest course of action," Rey agrees. It's obvious she's not overjoyed about the idea, but that she recognises the tactical element. Right now there are only two of them, and if something were to befall them both at the same time, it could mean the end of everything they've worked for. The end of the Sith, and of the Jedi.

Certainly the end of the Knights of Eigengrau.

"But I do think we need to keep up our joint training whilst we're all here," she goes on. "Especially considering how little time we've had since getting back from Eigengrau. There… is a lot I'm still working through."

"I agree. We should definitely focus on that, and you should also take some of the off-world missions. It was… we had to go to Yavin." Kylo nods at Poe. "We'll discuss all future outings, if we have the luxury of time?"

"Works for me," Rey answers, nodding. "Although… when we do find the planet where the Eye was taken, I think we all need to be there. I know the risks still apply, but… I think finding it is something we need to do in full force."

"Yes." Kylo kind of wishes they didn't. He remembers how it felt to be around the echoes of it, and if Rey and Finn are supposed to keep them 'right'…but if they lose it to the Order, it would be so, so much worse.

Indescribably worse. The kind of thing he'll have nightmares about for the rest of his life. 

"When the time comes… we'll face it together," Poe agrees, as well. "I know we can. I know we will."

As for those other thoughts at the back of his head… he can worry about them later.


	14. One Night On Tahanan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... _pation_.
> 
> And a very happy Smuturday to you all! ;-)

It's late by the time the Knights of Eigengrau disperse. Rey and Finn head off together, arm in arm, leaving Kylo and Poe to walk back to their quarters. The air is quiet and cool, and there are few people around, eventually blending to none before long.

And Poe, for one, is very much looking forward to getting a good night's sleep in his own bed. Very much.

Just… not quite yet.

They make it back to their quarters, heading inside, but the door has no sooner swished shut behind them than Poe grabs hold of Kylo and pushes him into the nearest wall, eyes full of sudden fire.

" _I want you_."

Kylo falls back, not fighting the rush of movement, eyebrows arching before his lips follow subtly after. He'd been distracted, so he hadn't been monitoring Poe's emotional state too closely, and it's a pleasant surprise.

"Do you, now?" he asks, watching with his head tilted. "I assume I have no say in the matter, even if it is: 'yes'?"

"Of course you do," Poe answers. "I'd do anything you say, you know that. One word from you, and I'll back off. Fall to my knees. _Anything_. But…" he runs his hands over Kylo's chest, looking up at him, "…I hoped the attention would please you. Plus it's too good a line to pass up…"

Kylo grabs Poe's chin between finger and thumb, eyes going lidded with hope. "You've got my attention sufficiently," he says, and steals a kiss from Poe's lips before pulling back. "Any attention from you is _more_ than pleasing." 

Poe smiles. "I thought it might be," he breathes. "Because I meant what I said. I want you… hot and rough and _right fucking now_."

He doesn't have to worry about being a little pushy. Kylo is more than capable of putting him back in his place if he wants to, and Poe would only enjoy it if he did, and both of them know it. Though he isn't actually trying to provoke it this time. He just wants to make his enthusiasm clear.

Eyes full of promise, he drops down onto his knees, mouthing over the front of Kylo's pants even as he starts trying to get them undone.

Which is more than welcome. Kylo's grin gets devious, and he grabs the back of Poe's head, pushing him closer in before he lets him have the space to continue his work. "Hot, rough, right fucking now… think I can get behind all of those."

Especially if he wants rough. He pulls on Poe's hair, tugging it to the point of eye-watering, and pulls his own belt free, before he passes it around Poe's neck, turning it into a collar and leash. The long remaining strap curls around his hand, keeping Poe from getting too far away.

_Fuck_ , but that feels good. Far, far too good. But it doesn't push Poe's mind under – or, not yet – and instead just stokes the fire in his chest all the more. "I'd rather you got behind _me_ ," he nigh-on growls, pulling Kylo's pants open and licking a promising line along the length of his cock. "But first…"

And he goes for it, lips wrapping around that beautiful cock, taking it deep. There's a bright storm of need inside him right now, and he's every bit set on indulging it. Every bit.

Oh, Maker, yes. Poe's mouth is sinfully warm and knows him too well, and it's not even as if the long practice makes this any hotter. Kylo's head slams back into the wall as he pushes up and into his mouth. He tugs hard with the belt, keeping Poe's face pressed nose into his belly, his hips grinding a tight circle.

"I'll get behind you, all right. Behind you, on top of you, inside of you… I'll remind you whose you are, Poe. Remind you who you're _sworn_ to, **bound** to…"

" _Yes_ ," Poe says, pulling back for breath. "Yes. Remind me. Not because I could ever forget, but because I like remembering…"

His lips sink straight back down, tongue arcing around the base of Kylo's cock as he holds the position for as long as he can. In the end, he has to pull back – again – to breathe, but he doesn't pause this time, keeping up the pace, wanting to drag Kylo as close to the edge as he dares… partly to make him feel good, and partly to see what he'll do in response.

The Sith's eyes slit almost-closed, and his breathing goes broken and ragged, the taste of it salty and rough in his throat. Poe really does look good on his knees, gazing up at him. He stares back down, lips parted, and then he holds Poe hard down on his cock. Holds him down, and won't let him pull away, even though it chokes him. 

Poe doesn't try to resist. He's long since learned that it's pointless, and that this is easier if he lets it happen. Plus he uses more oxygen if he struggles… and then there's the part where the slow-building hazy sensation is so much more enjoyable if he just gives into it.

So he does. Probably to the point where he would actually pass out, if Kylo kept this going long enough.

Kylo yanks him back with the collar, right off his cock and beams at the ruined, pink swell of his lips. He looks so damn happy, and the feeling arcs back like a circuit completed. Grounded, made whole. 

"You are the most beautiful creature alive, Poe Dameron. And I think I'm going to ravish you, now." He cants his head, hair sliding in punctuation. "What would you say to that?" 

Poe stares up at him. The world is hazy, and black at the edges, almost as if it's tunnelled around Kylo. "Fuck, yes please, Master," he gasps out in reply, very much meaning every syllable.

It's what he wants. What he needs. What his blood is screaming for.

Kylo strides past him, dragging the leather belt behind him at the end of his arm. He knows Poe will find a way to keep up with the harsh treatment as he pulls him through to the bedroom, as he slams him against the end of the bed. 

" _Please_ ," Poe gasps, after the impact, staying where he's thrown. "I need you. I want you. _Don't hold back_."

Kylo extends the belt, and stamps a foot down between his shoulderblades. Holds him, and then grabs Poe's own waistband. He forces it down, without opening, popping a button in the process and shoving the fabric down to his knees.

"Do you mean that? Truly? You _know_ what I'm capable of." 

"Of course I mean it," Poe replies at once. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't mean it. It I didn't want it. If I didn't _know_ it."

There's no snark in his tone, though. No pushiness, no cheek. Only an unwavering and undeniable edge of fervour.

A dry thumb slides into him, testing how tight he is, how hungry for it. Kylo smiles, and nuzzles behind his ear. "I think maybe we forego the usual, for once. Hands on the bed, hold on, and don't even think about begging for my dick until you can't live without it inside of you, do you understand?" 

Poe nods, moving his hands at once. "Yes, Master," he says, still sounding so very sure.

And he is. He wants this, wants Kylo, and he isn't afraid of what he's asking for. Not in the slightest. On the contrary: he's craving it, but not in the way he usually does. Not because he wants pain, or pleasure – though he wants them all the same – but because he feels like a man with something to prove. To Kylo, to himself.

And that need is like a deafening roar inside his head, and one that only proof can quieten.

Kylo pulls his thumb out, going to the toybox with their favourite supplies. He grabs some of the rope, and starts by lashing one ankle to the bed leg, spreading it wide. The other follows, and then he barks: "Hands, wrists together." 

When Poe obeys, the Sith binds his hands, palms flush together, and hoists his arms above his head, wrapping the rope around the headboard. "Comfortable?"

" _Yes_ ," Poe gasps, and he is. Physically, the position is a little tight, but he wants it so badly that he doesn't notice. Or, not in a negative sense, certainly. And that word, in that _tone_ …it sends a shiver running through him that is all kinds of wonderful. A bone-deep, desperate shiver.

He closes his eyes, feeling the way the ropes hold him, the way he's spread wide and open, exposed and helpless and entirely at his lover's nonexistent mercy.

Yes. Oh yes. He is _more_ than comfortable.

Next comes the blindfold. Kylo slips it over Poe's head, adjusting around his ears, and sinks him into darkness. That way he won't see what's coming, only hear the sounds of rustling. He's been adding to their toys as and when he can, and he pulls out something hefty. 

The handle is carved wood, about the girth of a sabre hilt, and falling from it are several suede licks of leather of differing width. He flicks it to get a feel for it, then lands the first, hard slap down on one bare cheek. "Have to warm your ass up, first, don't we, pilot?"

The impact comes as something of a surprise, but Poe still gasps in delight when it does, the need shooting through him in the wake of the sensation, and accompanied by an undeniable craving for _more_. He can't help loving this – and has done, since the first time they tried it. The pain, the inevitability, the inescapability, the…

… _focus_.

"Yes, Master," he replies. "Yes. Anything for you."

"You'll count them out. Each one. And you'll remember them, tomorrow. You'll remember, when you move. When you stand, or sit, or breathe…" He trails the flogger tails softly, sweeping with a light flick of his wrist. 

Only the flick then exaggerates, and Kylo twirls it mid-air to slam back down again, the edges catching sharply and dragging before a second, a third, a fourth blow lands. 

The sensation is exquisite. Poe counts the blows out, one at a time, and there's little more than a trace of pain in his voice as he does. The rest is rapture, plain and simple, and it extends into his whole body: into the way he doesn't tense up, doesn't struggle, even instinctively; doesn't move.

"Thank you, Master," he breathes, when there's a pause. " _Thank you_."

"I'm nowhere near done with you, yet." Kylo's voice is rough, almost as though through his helmet all over again. Rough, low, and full of pride. His beautiful pilot, spread, stretched and suffering. He looks so perfect and serene when he's in pain. 

The next blows come in waves of ten, barely allowing the digits to come out before he lands the next one. The suede strokes figure-eights, pulling pink heat into his cheeks. 

Still, Poe manages to keep counting. It's getting harder, the pain building gradually higher and higher, and there's more than a few gasps and cries in amongst the numbers. But it isn't because he can't take it – on the contrary, he _can_ , and the more he does, the more he _wants_.

Pain – this kind of pain, the wanted kind – is a strange thing. Sometimes a few blows will leave him feeling half-broken and on the edge within moments. Other times… other times, even though the sensation itself is unchanged, all it does is make him want _more_. And **more**. It's the difference between cresting a wave, and sinking straight beneath it.

And tonight, it's quite a wave.

Kylo grins, power-lust high in his brown eyes. He loves when Poe's body and mind sing in unison, and he leans against his ass and thighs to pull his shirt up and over his head. He leaves it around his arms, but the rucked up fabric becomes a choke-chain around his neck. That leaves his back bare, and the suede kisses soft swooshes.

"Are you ready for more?" he asks, and rocks lightly against Poe's thighs. 

" _Yes_ ," Poe breathes, absolutely, utterly rapt. "Yes, Master. _Please_."

He is. So much so that he can hardly think. But then, right now, he doesn't need to. He just needs to _feel_.

A kiss to the back of his neck, then Kylo stands back. He starts to stroke sharp figure eights across his shoulders, fainter down his spine, deepening when he gets to his ass again. Up and down, up and down, then interspersing with solid **cracks** that stay in place a moment after. 

He could keep this up for hours, and he knows Poe isn't really recognising the pain any more. It's a delicious mindset to observe, and he smiles to himself as he watches his lover writhe. He's not going to stop until Poe's lost all ability to speak. 

The pilot hasn't, not yet, but he's getting closer and closer. The numbers have disappeared somewhere along the way and now he's just gasping soft, blissful words when he has the breath for them: murmurs of "Yes," and "Please," and " _Anything_." He still doesn't full-on cry out, though, even when the sharpest blows land and leave him physically and mentally breathless.

He sinks, and he sinks, deeper and deeper until his own words become distant, until half of them are mouthed without him even realising no sound is coming out. Until the darkness outside becomes the darkness inside, turning back on itself and breaking the pleasure-pain dichotomy altogether.

It's all just sensation, now. The most perfect sensation imaginable.

Kylo keeps up the strokes as Poe floats, knowing he can keep him here for some time, yet. He knows he's not causing any real harm with his actions, knows he's just firing off deeply programmed sensation in him. But still.

A man has needs.

He pulls the leather around Poe's neck, pulling his head back as he settles over his spine. Kisses his jaw, rocks his clothed groin to Poe's bare, pink behind. "I'm going to take you, now. I'm going to take you slowly at first, and then I'm going to fuck what's left of your mind out of you. Are you ready, my pilot? Are you?" 

Poe tries to say something akin to "Fuck, yes please, Master," but his ability to form words has long since checked out, and all he manages is a series of incoherent, if obviously enthusiastic, murmurs. He does punctuate them with several nods, though, which makes it somewhat clearer.

He certainly means it. Feeling Kylo on top of him – especially when he's pinned face-down like this – is intensely wonderful, and if he could get the words out right now, he'd be begging the other man to fuck him, to take him, to _own him_.

Kylo summons the lube bottle, then drops it onto the bed. He holds the flogger around Poe's throat with one hand – handle and tongues – and then unzips his own pants. He pulls his cock out (and oh, but it wants this, it wants him so very badly) and squeezes a generous amount of lube onto his hand. He strokes over his cock, then holds himself lined up with Poe's hole. A few abortive, soft stabs and then he keeps himself still enough to push just the head inside.

This is always the best moment, by far. When they start, when everything is ahead of them. When… when he feels Poe shake with longing, and when he feels him open up as he rolls his hips up and bears into him, pushing in to the balls and sighing in contentment. 

" _Oh fuck_ ," Poe somehow manages, his voice cracked with bliss. He tries to angle his hips up, to give Kylo the very best access, though he can't do much because of how firmly he's tied in place. Mostly what he can do is _take it_ , and the feeling is so wonderful that he wonders, vaguely, how he hasn't broken from it.

It's everything he's craving: skin still hot and thrumming from the flogging, the initial rush of pain having quickly subsided into a deep heat that blazes all the way through his body, amplified wherever Kylo touches him. And that feeling of penetration, of Kylo sliding deep inside, knowing that he exists for this man and this man alone… it's perfect. It's what he needs. It's _right_.

He wants to speak again. It isn't easy, his mind so disconnected from the words, from the world, but he tries.

"…Yours… yours… always… don't hold back…"

"I won't," Kylo promises, nuzzling his neck affectionately. "But I'm going slow, first. Build the moment until I can't go slow for a moment longer. Until I **have** to fuck you so hard you can't breathe." 

His weight settled, he uses one knee on the bed as leverage, the suede necklace for purchase, as he starts to slide along his back. Slide along, and deeper in. In, out, chasing the slow patterns of his own breathing. It feels so wonderful when Poe's body accepts him so willingly, allows their coupling, makes him feel _whole_. He lives to make Poe happy, first and foremost, with everything else paling in comparison.

"I love you," he says, as he snaps his hips at the deepest moment. "I love you so much." 

"Love you too," Poe manages. "Feels so good…"

This is an understatement. It feels _exquisite_. And, though he is craving something rough and insistent, it doesn't stop him enjoying the build-up. Not in the slightest. Not when he has Kylo pressed up against him, holding him, taking him. And then there's the suede tails of the flogger across his neck, tight enough to make him aware of every breath, but not so much that he worries he won't be able to draw the next.

If he could see, he knows the world would be going hazy. But he can't. And yet, somehow, it goes blacker still.

"Going to make you raw with it," Kylo promises, building up by degrees. It's torture to him, so he can only imagine how the pace makes Poe feel. He seats himself in, bending at the waist, lifting from him only to pull the flogger away – toss it to hit the wall – and wrap his own arm in a weak choke-hold across his throat. 

He bites down hard on Poe's earlobe, his movements getting steadily faster and firmer, the bed rocking from the pounding that's building. "Going to make you feel me all week." 

" _Fuckyesplease_ ," Poe gasps out, his mind going sky-high all over again. Because _fuck yes_. "Yes. Make me. I'm yours. Make it so I couldn't forget even if I somehow wanted to."

Which he doesn't. And wouldn't. But it's still good to say: so much so that the words even come easily.

The arm tightens to all but strangling, and Kylo lets go of whatever inhibitions he still had. His pace kicks up to a punishing speed, and he slams Poe into the bed with each brutal, deep rut and curve of his spine. Over and over, chasing the pleasure that's just over the horizon. 

"Beg me. Beg me, before you dare think of coming. Beg me, and I'll fuck you into unconsciousness, Poe, so you dream of my arms around you, my dick deep in you… _Beg. Me._ "

And _that_ is so wonderful that Poe has to concentrate not to come right there and then. His whole body shudders with the effort of holding back, intensified all the more by the fact he can barely breathe, and instinct makes him tug so hard on the ropes holding his wrists that he's confident he'll have marks in the morning.

"Please," he chokes, the word little more than a rough whisper. "Please let me come. Please… Master… _break me in half_ …"

A hand in his hair, then, the other arm still around his neck as Kylo snaps with all the strength he has. The bed _groans_ in complaint as he pulls him from the ropes, as he shakes the frame with the speed and ferocity of his coupling.

" _Louder_." 

Poe would scream the roof off right now, if he could. But he can't, and he's going more than a little hypoxic as a result, and struggling for the words is hard, no matter how badly he wants to give them voice.

" _Please let me come, Master_ ," he manages. It is louder and clearer than before, though he still sounds cracked and wrecked, and he's not at all sure how close he is to quite literally passing out.

But it doesn't detract in the slightest from the bliss of the moment: to the feeling of being taken so forcefully, claimed so decisively, and nor does it detract from the need to wrap himself up in that feeling for as long as he can bear it.

Kylo doesn't give permission straight off. No, why would he? He slams in as many more times as he can before he snarls, right by Poe's ear: " **Come**." Just one word, as he keeps up the punishing pace, grinding him into the bed with every slam inside. 

The instant Kylo speaks, giving permission, completion hits Poe so hard that he somehow manages to scream despite having nigh-on no oxygen in his lungs. The climax rips through him, so intensely that it _hurts_ – though it's a delicious hurt, of course – and so drawn-out that he's sure the unceasing fucking is keeping it going, making him come and come and _come_ until he has nothing left in him, collapsing against the bed.

And then… he lies, boneless and helpless beneath his husband. And there aren't words for how much he loves it.

Kylo makes sure he holds his own climax off for as long as possible. He drops Poe down, letting go of hair and throat, grabbing the sheets and sheathing himself deep the few more times he can manage. Using his pliant body, riding the wave of his own pleasure. In, in, and then he sighs out Poe's name in a gust of air over his face as he pushes up and in one last time, spilling deep inside him.

"All mine," he whispers, the climax making his head fuzzy and warm. "You're all mine, Poe. Mine." 

Poe can't speak. He tries, but he can't. Not even a sound. So he just nods, over and over, the only movement – other than breathing – that he's even capable of.

But the joy is radiating off him, nonetheless. The joy and the _stillness_ ; that sense of internal quiet that comes from being completely content, and it's a welcome respite from the rest of the world right now. He is just _this_. Loved. Wanted. Owned.

Kylo waits until Poe is suitably calmer before he unhitches the restraints. He leaves his hands wound tightly together, and the circles of rope around his ankles, but he takes the hitching to the bed off. He bends his knees, curling into him, rolling him gently to his side and holding him close.

"You can relax, now, love," he murmurs. "You can let go of everything." 

Nodding some more, Poe curls in tightly. He loves this, too: loves the feeling of Kylo holding him, surrounding him. Loves being wrapped in his arms and kept close, where he belongs. Where he needs to be. His whole body aches, but it just feels _good_ ; the lingering sting of the flogging and the roughness of the fucking both memories that he wants to hold onto.

"…thank you…" he manages, eventually, though the words are so far away that it isn't easy to catch hold of them.

"Sleep," comes the soft whisper. "Sleep, my beloved. It's okay. I love you. I love you." He strokes a warm hand over his hip, curls around his waist, tugs him in tighter. 

Everything is floaty for him, too: the adrenaline flood of power not breaking into despair, but the endorphin high keeping his body fluid and sanguine. "I love you," he says again, watching Poe sink into sleep. 

***

The next morning dawns bright and clear. Poe wakes slowly – he's used to waking in a tangle of rope, and clothing, and Kylo – lying curled up for as long as he can before they both have to give into the inevitable, and make a start to their day.

Though, of course, showering can be infinitely more fun when there's two of you.

Soon, they're settling down to have breakfast, and Poe still feels good. The odd sensations at the back of his mind haven't gone, but they're quieter, allowing him to focus on the day ahead. He isn't sure, yet, what it will hold, and that lingering uncertainty means he doesn't have to dwell on it too much.

"Maybe we'll get a whole day where we don't have to rush off base at short notice," he says. "It would certainly help. At this rate, my squadron is going to forget what I look like…"

"They won't forget what you look like. You could do a rousing speech again, though, just to make sure," Kylo offers as he dribbles far too much honey on his toast. 

Poe grins. "You like my rousing speeches. I'd claim I needed a major event to warrant it, but I bet I could do one just to tell them all how wonderful they are…"

"Maybe you could bolster them up considering…" Kylo nearly says something negative, and stops himself. "…the return of old comrades and the re-instatement of old units?" 

"You mean their commander's dad?" Poe replies, smile now more than a little wry. "No doubt some of them are going to have fun with that one. I'm confident Snap is already working out how best to persuade my father to tell him all sorts of embarrassing stories from my childhood… Maker, I need to keep an eye on him…"

"…oh?" Kylo leans forwards. "You could pre-empt him, you know. In case I get to hear through the grapevine…"

"You'll have to _torture_ it out of me," is Poe's immediate response, tone offhand… and then he realises precisely what he's just said and becomes very interested in his breakfast again.

"You know, if you say things like that you might have to report in sick for duty?" Kylo says, smirking into his toast. He chews. Loudly. Gulps. "For a week." 

Poe decides to roll with it. "You and your _promises_ ," he remarks, trying to keep his voice level.

Before this conversation can get any worse, however, there's a knock at the door. "…Who could that be?" Poe wonders, aloud. Trying not to voice the obvious possibility that whoever it is has come with bad news.

He gets up, going over the door and opening it – and is somewhat unsurprised to find Snap Wexley on the other side, with a very complicated expression on his face.

"This had better not be bad news," Poe starts out, before he can stop himself.

"Good morning to you too, Dameron," Snap replies, dryly. "Sorry to interrupt, but there's something you need to know. Both of you."

"All right. Come in." And Poe waves Snap through the door, so he can talk to them both.

Kylo is about ready to offer him breakfast when he sees the expression on their visitor's face. "Snap… what's happened?" 

"We just got word in from the team that Major Emmat sent to Vikenza, to investigate the bombing there," Snap starts off, and it's clear from his expression that he really _doesn't_ know what to think about whatever's going on.

Poe feels suddenly cold. "And? What did they find out?"

"It isn't to do with the bombing," Snap answers. "Whilst they were carrying out their investigation – under guise as an insurance team working for Platatech, the company that was hit – someone approached them. Someone approached them, and surrendered, and was immediately rushed off-world to a safehouse."

This is not what Poe expected at all, and he's staring a little as he asks, "Who is it?"

"That's the thing," Snap replies. "It's one of the Knights of Ren."


	15. Good Sith, Bad Sith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, readers. Happy Wednesday! We return with our next chapter, in which the boys go to meet their unexpected visitor.
> 
> And then... well. We'll leave you to find out what comes next...

Poe feels like the whole world has stopped; staring at Snap in the wake of this revelation. "One of the Knights of Ren?" he repeats, stunned. "I don't… _How_?"

"We don't have all the details yet," Snap answers. "They just walked up to Emmat's team – obviously knew who they really were – and surrendered."

"They? Male, female? Snap – there must be some details. Haven't you heard anything? Not even a name?" Kylo isn't sure if it's real or not, isn't sure if it's some terrible trick to get enough highly placed operatives in place to strike, or… what? 

"It's a guy," Snap says. "If he's given his name, we haven't been told. But… if it helps, apparently he hit on two of the investigation team when he first made contact…"

Kylo sighs. "Tovim. It has to be Tovim. The others wouldn't even bother _talking_ to non Force-sensitives, beyond the necessary." 

Which could mean anything. Kylo has never trusted that particular adept, for a multitude of reasons. And…

"Keep _anyone_ who knows the location of the Alpha Site away from him. He'll pluck it from their minds if you don't." 

"Emmat's people know what they're doing, at least in that respect," Snap answers. "None of them are based here, so they should be safe keeping an eye on him for now. But, needless to say, you're wanted up in the command bunker. I think it's a safe bet that General Organa wants you to go talk to this Knight, and find out what he's really up to."

That makes sense too, and Poe knows it. Plus, Kylo is more than skilled enough to keep his own mind shielded, and his own secrets safe. Poe, on the other hand…

He sighs. Worry about that later. "Come on. We'd better get the lowdown on this guy."

"Trust me, no one can go low down enough for him," Kylo mutters bleakly. Of all the people… well. In a way, he can believe it. Danika is furiously against him, Daria goes where she points, and the trio: Meryth, Fayed and Jolek… they're a package deal. 

Tovim, though, goes wherever the wind blows strongest. 

"Let me put my boots on," Kylo mutters, darkly. 

***

In the end, so little is known about this latest development – Emmat's team not having dared trust too much to the airwaves – that they move straight to what would have been the next step, sooner or later. Kylo and Poe leave Tahanan at once, taking the _Phoenix_ out to a small planet called Attalor – a desert world several sectors spinward of Vikenza – where the Resistance maintains a small, tertiary base.

A base currently serving as the safehouse to which Tovim Ren has been taken, following his unexpected surrender.

Poe doesn't know – yet – what the man is up to, but he doesn't like any of it one bit. Kylo has told him enough about the remaining Knights of Ren to make it clear to Poe that, of all of them, Tovim is the one he's going to like the least.

Which… is probably saying something.

Poe has at least managed to persuade Leia – and, indeed, Kylo – to let him come on this mission. He, of course, knows all too well where the Resistance's primary base is, and he lacks the Force-powers to keep Tovim from pulling the truth from his mind, if he tries.

But, so long as he stays away from the man… it will be fine.

The base on Attalor is on the opposite side of the planet from the few settlements that exist here, but Poe still has to keep his flightpath low and careful to make sure no one out there notices the Upsilon-class shuttle currently making its way towards a supposedly-uninhabited part of the planet.

"Attalor ground control, this is the _Phoenix_ ," he calls, over the secure channel.

"Copy, _Phoenix_ , this is ground control. We've been expecting you. The hangar bay doors are open."

"Inbound now."

The base itself is built into the side of a large mountain, in Attalor's most rocky region. It was apparently constructed a long time ago by a band of smugglers, but had been abandoned for decades before the Resistance came along, and repurposed it as their own.

Poe brings the ship in through the single hangar bay door, coming to a halt on the vacant landing pad.

"Well," he says. "Here we are."

"Yes. And… do you think maybe it would be wise if you remain… in the ship?" Kylo asks, turning his swivel-seat towards Poe, facing him square on. 

Because the further away from Tovim Poe is, the better. Not that Kylo would trust any of them around Poe, which does make him wonder how he thinks he can save people he doesn't trust in the slightest.

How did Poe do it? Was it just necessity? No wonder he'd been unpopular, when he'd turned up on D'Qar. He can see the other side's perspective properly, now.

"I'm not staying here," Poe answers, levelly – though it's not so much the level of calm, as the level of poise. _Coiled_. "I realise I can't be in the same room as him, but I'm not staying here. If you're talking to him, I want to watch."

"We can patch it through, I'm sure. I'm not going to – nothing will happen I'm not prepared to let everyone in the Resistance see, I promise," Kylo says. "I just… he's not Snoke, but I need you safe. He's the best of them at climbing into heads. He can barely move a chair across the room, but he could convince you to move it for him." 

"I'll be safe. They'll have somewhere I can watch – mirrored glass or on holo, it doesn't matter. But I need to see this. And I won't…" The pilot shakes his head. "I refuse to hide on the sidelines just because I don't have Force-powers."

"It isn't… it isn't sidelining you, Poe. I can't fly an X-Wing and bomb a ship, and you can't fight Tovim if he decides to attack. It's just what we're good at, it's not…" Kylo sighs.

"You know he and the twins are my responsibility, more so than the other three."

Poe sighs, looking down. "I know they are. Of course I do. And I'm not for one minute suggesting you shouldn't do this. I just… need to be there, when you do."

The reasoning is complicated. He knows what Tovim Ren represents to Kylo. Knows he's a link to the hell that Kylo went through, but that he's also one of the people whom Kylo wants to save. And Poe doesn't want him facing any of that alone.

Although, also…

…no. No 'also'. Just that.

"…I… _fine_. Just… keep your distance, okay? Not just because he can get info from you, but because he'd take great delight in pulling your strings, just to see what twitched, okay? Tovim is… interesting. He… probably has never felt a conviction in his life, other than the conviction he feels that people he finds attractive should put out." To say it nicely.

At least he'd never witnessed him cheating someone into bed, Kylo thinks, with a retrospective shudder. "He'll swear himself to us if he thinks we've got the best chance."

"I'll be careful," Poe promises. "I won't compromise you, or the base."

He worries he might have pushed too far, but… no. No. He needs to do this. Needs to be there.

He reaches out and hits the button to open the rear hatch. "Come on. Let's go see what this guy has to say."

***

The commander of the base comes to meet them, and before long they've been led through to the most secure part of the facility. There's a holding room here, and next door to it one designed for observation, with a large central viewscreen allowing the occupants to watch – and hear – what's going on, out of sight.

As soon as they step in, Poe's eyes go right to the image of the man in question: Tovim Ren, seated in the holding room. He's dressed all in black, but without his helmet, and Poe realises it's the first time he's seen the face of any of the other Knights of Ren.

He certainly wouldn't forget this one. Tovim is undeniably attractive.

Poe dislikes him already.

He gives Kylo one last glance as his lover heads off, and then stands, in the centre of the observation room, watching the viewscreen. There are people around him – several others from the base – but they all fade into the background as, on the screen, Poe sees Kylo enter the other room.

"You know," says the younger man, "…when I said 'take me to your leader' I assumed I'd meet someone else. Or have you really taken over here as fast as you did in the Order?"

Kylo snorts derisively, stopping several paces away. "You knew they'd send me."

"Maybe I did." Tovim shrugs. "Happy to see me?"

"Why are you here?"

"…as cheery as ever, I see. Well." The Knight rolls his shoulders, cricks his neck. "You did offer amnesty, didn't you?"

"I did, to those who really want it. Am I to believe you do?" Kylo doesn't. For one, there's not a hint of repentance on his face, or in his tone. Tovim looks – and feels – the same as he ever has. 

"Maybe. That's why I'm here. I wanted to ask more about your offer, and do so where I wouldn't be overheard." 

"And you expect me to believe this wasn't organised by Danika, or by Hux?"

"Please! You expect I'd follow orders from _Hux_?" Tovim rolls his eyes almost audibly.

Well, he has a point with that, Kylo has to admit. None of them had ever been fond of the 'need' for the non Force-sensitive elements to the Order, but it had been a necessity. He rakes hard over Tovim's mind, looking for deceit.

"You know, you _could_ just ask. Or ask me to dinner, first, Kylo."

"Shut up, Tovim. You would interrogate me if I turned up back at the base and said I wanted to change sides."

"Yes. Because you've done it twice, now. And that's two times more than I ever have, so… I'd want to know why, and why it was worth staying in one place all of a sudden."

Kylo winces. "Because this is the right side, Tovim. This is the _right_ side. Ignore Light, Dark… there's a deeper layer: Good, and Evil."

"Yeah, and you used to be fine with Evil. Me… you know me. I don't so much care for it, or for the opposite. So I'm here to ask you…" He leans forwards, bound hands sliding over the table. "What's in it for me?"

"I don't kill you, for one."

That makes Tovim laugh, showing teeth. "I should hope not. If you want to lure any more Knights to you, killing the first one to show would be a bad way to bait the hook."

"What is it you actually want, Tovim?"

"…not dying is high up there. Winning, that works, too. A nice villa on a hot planet, somewhere… enough droids and slave girls and boys to keep me entert--"

Kylo lifts a hand, a gust of invisible power slapping into the other's throat in a warning.

"…paid boys and girls? Whatever. The money to pay them. A really nice pleasure craft, and--"

"Would you be serious for once in your damn life?" Kylo drops his head back against his shoulders, looking up to the ceiling for support. "Doesn't any of it bother you? The murder, the indoctrination, the stealing of children, the lies?"

"You want me to lie, or you want me to be honest? Because I kind of feel mixed signals here, old pal. On the one hand--"

"Why should I trust you? You don't care who wins!"

"Which is precisely why I can be trusted. Offer me the best reward, and you _know_ no ideology is going to pull me away. Not like you. Wave a pretty boy in front of you, and what happens?"

"You leave my husband out of this, Tovim," Kylo growls, warningly. His hands curl into angry little balls, his teeth chewing the inside of his mouth.

"Why? You want to tell me how suddenly you get laid and see the light? That's what happened, isn't it? Was all that Dark nonsense just because you'd never dipped your prick in something? I mean, it wasn't for want of opportunity."

"I said: **enough** ," Kylo says, louder. "I saw a way out, a way to be who I really was. My sex life has nothing to do with what is, and is not, good and right."

"Just saying sex _is_ pretty good," Tovim replies. "Unless it's bad. And I mean, the real bad. The _good_ bad." A whistle through his teeth. "Do we all get a pilot when we come over? Do I get to pick?" 

Which would be when the door bursts open and Poe comes hurtling into the room like a man possessed, the _rage_ in his blood having swelled to breaking point over the last few minutes, and finally snapped with that last remark.

He moves _fast_ , the world a haze save for the focal point of his anger. Without stopping, he vaults the table, slamming straight into Tovim and bowling them both – and the chair – right over backwards. There's a slam and a clatter as they hit the floor – Tovim taking the brunt of it – and then Poe is _right_ in the taller man's face, whilst trying to brace himself for the Force-assault that he's sure is coming his way.

Not that he cares. Not that he's _capable_ of caring through this red mist. "You go near _any_ of my pilots and I will personally airlock you into the atmosphere of the same planet where I left what remained of your _Leader_ ," he hisses. "And if you insult my husband again, you'll _wish_ all I did was airlock you."

Tovim's chair bounces until the weight of both of them pins them down, and then the Knight has his hands up in the very small space between them, placatingly. "Oh, boy, you picked a firecracker, Kylo. Reckon I know which of you is the--"

Kylo grabs Poe's collar and the waistband of his pants, lifting him up from the man on the floor. " _What do you think you're doing?!_ " he asks, entirely silently. He doesn't even acknowledge the man lying sprawled on his over-turned chair. 

" _I'm not taking this anymore_ ," Poe retorts, somehow managing to keep it inside his head. " _Not from **him**_."

The truth is, he isn't wholly sure _what_ he's doing. He doesn't fully remember coming in here. He just knows he can't stand back and let this jumped-up _Darksider_ get away with acting like this.

Kylo puts Poe back on his feet, moving to stand between them, hands ready to grab for either one of them. His eyes are mostly on Poe, but his senses are on both. " _You're risking the whole operation, Poe! I had this under control!_ "

Tovim cocks his head. "You two developed a lan-- oh! Oh, you're like the terrible two?"

"Shut up, Tovim."

"Look, I hate to break it to you, but this kind of _is_ about me, for once. If we could go back to negotiating my amenities when I dedicate myself to your cause…"

"Your _amenities_?!" Poe retorts, glaring at Tovim. "How about _not burning up in the atmosphere of a gas giant_? Would that be **amenable** to you?"

"Poe…" Kylo's tone is warning, and he's struggling to keep his own emotional balance under control. He's never been particularly stable anyway, and he's teetering on an edge, about to be toppled over and--

"Looks like the Light Side isn't that much different to the Order after all. Just a change in title, isn't it? Same old, same old…"

Poe is already on the edge, and _that_ topples him over. Without a word, without a second's thought – and certainly without any kind of sensible consideration – he launches himself at Tovim once more.

Kylo maybe lets him get a bit more of a swing in than he should before he grabs Poe again, throwing the shorter man under his arm and storming right out of the room.

"I want one like that!" Tovim crows.

"Shut the fuck up," Kylo snaps, then closes the door behind them. He drops Poe to his feet, eyes angry and shaking with rage. "And what the fuck are you trying to do, Poe? What happened to 'let's try to save them'?"

Poe backs off immediately, his own eyes wide with shock, the red mist dropping all at once and leaving him… leaving him…

"Fuck," he gasps, taking another step away. "I…"

What in the fuck just happened? He doesn't know. He just knows that one minute he was in the observation room, and the next… and…

The rage recedes, like a wave from the shore, leaving nothing but featureless, answerless sand in its wake.

Kylo stares at the man in front of him, his own mood far too up and tempestuous to dampen down any time soon. "Poe… seriously, do you know what damage you might just have done?" 

He doesn't want to yell at him, but he really is still very angry. It's just… hard to be angry at Poe. Frustrated, he spins on his heels and punches his fist into the bulkhead behind him. 

"Fuck," Poe breathes again. This is not right. None of this is right. He remembers all of it, but at the same time he doesn't quite know how any of it happened, to say nothing of the fact that he can't work out why he would be so completely stupid… except that he wanted to… to…

"I'm going back to the ship," he says, deciding that the only safe course of action is to remove himself from the situation entirely. "You were right, I should never have come. Tell that maniac… you know what, tell him whatever you want. I don't need him to like me."

And he turns, fully intent on returning to the _Phoenix_ as fast as possible.

Kylo whirls, grabbing at his sleeve, trying to stop him. "Don't… look. Don't. Okay… I can… I can try to see what he got from you. Don't come back in, but… don't be alone, not right now. Poe… I'm serious. If I didn't need to check what he's up to, I wouldn't… wouldn't leave you at _all_ for the rest of the day." 

"I'm fine," Poe insists, but he is so clearly not fine that he can't even keep his own expression in check. He doesn't try to pull away, though, but that's mostly because he doesn't want to make this any worse than it already is. "Go back in there. I'll…"

He can't exactly go back into the observation room. Not if watching might make him lose it again. But, on the other hand, he doesn't like the thought of Kylo being alone with one of _them_.

Kylo tugs harder. His anger is mutating into something else, or maybe just expressed differently. He's angry with Tovim, of course, but now he's concerned for his husband. He pulls him again, trying to tug him into his chest. "Just… stay a minute, first, okay? I need to know you're not going to go do anything dumb, Poe."

It's a long, long moment before Poe relents and lets Kylo pull him in close. "I don't know what happened," he whispers, against Kylo's chest. "I…"

He tries to pull away again, not because he doesn't enjoy the contact – he does, of course he does – but because he's confident he doesn't deserve it right now.

The Sith keeps hold as long as he can, but he doesn't want to make him uncomfortable, so he steps back. "…he drives me mad, too, you know," he offers. "Not the best candidate for a redemption arc." 

This is very true, and Poe knows it. But there's a difference between not liking someone, and bowling them to the floor whilst threatening to airlock them. A big difference. And right now, Poe knows he's on the wrong side of the line.

"He's all we've got right now," he says, and if the words sound as though they taste of ash, it's because they do. "You should go back in there."

"…do you promise me you won't be alone?" Kylo asks. He doesn't want to leave Poe to his own devices, but he does also need to work out why Tovim is here.

He feels… a deeper conflict than he can remember in a long, long time. It's just not right to abandon Poe, not now. But…

"I'll go talk to the guys from Emmat's team," Poe replies. At least then he'll be doing something useful. "They can tell me exactly what happened on Vikenza. And what they've learned so far about the bombing." A beat. "I'll be fine."

"Okay. Look… call for me? If you're not?" Kylo bites his lip, eyes searching Poe's. He strokes lightly against his husband's mind, though his own sense of self is frayed right now. 

Poe nods. "I will. I promise. And you… you be careful with him. I don't trust him. All of this is too… convenient."

And there's something more to it. Something he can't pin down.

"Don't worry," Kylo replies, "I trust him about as far as he can Force-throw me." Which is not very far; not very far at all. 

***

Tovim's managed to get himself – and the chair – back upright by the time Kylo re-enters the room. He's smirking widely, and Kylo wonders if he's ever looked this smug in his life. He's even worse than Han, and that's saying something.

"Feisty one. Didn't mean to cause a domestic."

"Shut up about Poe, and all the pilots, Tovim. I can tell you're not sincere, so why don't you tell me the truth before I rip it from your head?"

"…you really haven't changed, boss, you know? You're still as personable as e-- okay! Okay… put the thumbscrews down."

Kylo is not in the mood, and he makes it clear with his body-language. "Tovim. Why. Are. You. Here?"

"Wanted to see what kind of set up you had. And no… the Order doesn't know about this, nor do the Knights. There was a 'humanitarian' operation to the mundanes who got torched. Figured I could tag along, and reach out. See what the gig was."

"And you want to… what? Stay?"

"Maker, no! Not yet. I want to see what you guys have to offer, and see if I fancy your chances in the long run."

Which is the first honest thing Kylo thinks he's said so far. "All right. We have plenty to offer, not least of which is you not being arrested when this is all over. I'd say the peace of mind knowing you'd make the right choice, but…" 

"Yeah, I sleep pretty sound as it is."

Kylo wonders if you can even be Light if you don't really care. Can you? If you just act… middle? Or are you middle? Is it good if you do it to avoid arrest? Who is he to judge, if the end result is the same? 

"Tovim, how could I possibly trust you?"

"You couldn't… so you'd have to be good enough to convince me you were the one to back. Call it added incentive… and no. Not yet. I really do want to get back to the others, first. And they won't get in here…" He taps his skull. "That was you and the last guy's specialty."

"I wish you'd see the Light, you know," Kylo says, sadly. "I mean, really. You could be so much more than you are."

"I like who I am plenty, but thanks," Tovim replies. "All right. I think I've seen enough. Unless you want to buy me a drink and tell me about that husband of yours…?"

Kylo shakes his head.

"…worth a try."

***

When Poe is done talking to the members of Emmat's team, he decides he _does_ need a moment alone. Or several. And he's been fine since he calmed down, so he figures it will be OK. He wanders the corridors for a little while, until he finds himself in an observation room of a different kind: one that looks out beyond the base and over the mountain range surrounding them. It's dark right now; the sky awash with stars, moonlight glittering on the distant peaks.

Poe steps right up to the window, staring out, putting a hand on the glass and then resting his head against it. Trying to think… and to _not_ think.

He still doesn't know what happened earlier. Not what, and not how. But it worries him. And also…

…No.

Kylo finds him as soon as he's able. He can feel the buzz of Poe's direction if he focuses hard enough, and he wanders through the base until he's close by. A knock on the door, not opening it until Poe calls him in. 

The sound makes Poe jump, and he turns, staring over at the door. "Hello?"

"It's just me," Kylo says, opening the door slowly. "How are you feeling?" 

"Like an idiot," Poe answers, with a wry little smile, turning back to the window. It's hard to look Kylo in the eyes right now, and he doesn't know what to say. What _can_ he say? If he hasn't screwed all of this up, he's certainly come dangerously close, and he still doesn't know _why_ , and…

Kylo walks closer, puts his hand on the small of his husband's back. He presses gently, and then drops his head against Poe's, looking out through the window beside him. 

"I'm sorry I – got… physical," he says, after a moment. "I wasn't thinking straight."

"You were right to do it," Poe replies, level and soft. "I don't know what happened, but I do know you needed me out of there."

The hand on his back is grounding, and his eyes shutter closed. "I'm sorry."

"…can we get past the part where we both feel bad, and work out what went wrong?" Kylo asks, sounding… well. Shaken. They haven't really had this happen before, and he's not sure what 'it' was. Just that 'it' was terrible. And needs to never happen again. 

"I don't know," Poe answers, not opening his eyes yet. He sounds frustrated – he _is_ – but it's obviously not directed at Kylo. "I felt this _intense_ wave of anger and I just… I lost it. Completely. I don't think I even knew where I was for a moment or two, and I don't want to know what might have happened if…"

He trails off, shivering, opening his eyes to stare out at the dark, distant mountains, if only to give himself something safe to focus on.

"Has… that ever happened before?" Kylo asks. Because he's felt it, and he knows how it goes, but he's never really witnessed Poe go off the handle before. Not ever.

Not even, really, around Snoke. That had been targeted, and sensible. It hadn't been… well. Tovim is an annoying, cocksure little dickhead, but he isn't _Snoke_.

Poe shakes his head. "No. Well. I felt something similar when we were on Yavin 4, after we heard about Vikenza, but I didn't act on it. And other than that… Kylo, you know me, you know I don't… I'm not… I'm not this person. And I don't know what's happening but it frightens me, and I…"

Forwards again, forehead on the glass. "…I don't know how to stop it."

"Well… I was like that, once, you know." Kylo smiles, wryly, and rubs circles between Poe's shoulderblades. "Hot-headed. Temperamental. Angry at the galaxy. Nearly did irreparable damage, you know?"

Oh, did he ever. Kylo winces, when he thinks of how he'd been. How nearly lost forever he'd been. 

That makes Poe turn, wrapping his arms around Kylo and resting against his chest. "I know," he whispers. "And I helped pull you back. It was the greatest thing I ever did. I wish I could find the man I was that day, and bring him here. He'd know what to do."

"He's still in you," Kylo insists, huddling him in, tight, breathing in his hair. "He is. Underneath this. This is just… a brief storm, but it will pass. You're stronger than this, Poe. And maybe I don't have the strength you did, but I'm going to do all I can to try help _you_ , too." 

"I don't even know what's wrong with me. I don't even know why I keep feeling like this, I just… I don't know."

Poe _does_ know he's talking in circles. His mind is running in them, recursive and answerless, and he can't work out how to break free of it.

"How… how… did you talk me down?" Kylo asks, wondering if maybe he can get Poe to think through this. "Or… what would you say to me, if it was me feeling like this?"

"…I'm not even sure I did," Poe replies, with a wry smile. "I think I just… kept coming at you until you realised you wanted me, and then it all just… fell into place." There was no grand master plan, after all. He wasn't even doing it consciously. "And… I guess I would tell you to hold on to who you really are, and what you really want, and… that you weren't alone."

"So… medic…" Kylo moves to stand behind him, arms wrapping around his waist, burying his face into his neck. "We've got one part of that sorted. And you aren't even really bad, so how hard can it be to get the rest of it?"

Poe leans back against his lover, letting the other man's warmth soothe him, closing his eyes and trying to let go of his worries. It doesn't exactly work, but he still feels better for the contact. "I know," he says, softly. "It's just… I need not to do that again. Feeling a certain way is one thing, but I can't go attacking people without even thinking about it."

He cringes a little. "Did you manage to get anywhere with our guest?"

"He… is playing both sides, for the moment. Understandably. The day Tovim stands for something that isn't him is the day my father Force-levitates the _Falcon_ ," Kylo answers, grimly. "But his loyalty is to power, and so we could… use him. If we can convince him we're the best option in his long run." 

"But how could we ever trust him?" Poe asks. His tone is sensible and rational when he speaks – all the anger of before now gone – although it's clear he's still frustrated underneath. "Even if we convince him to join us, we'd have to be constantly on the lookout in case he gets a better offer."

"We don't trust him. We use him. We don't give him anything sensitive, but we use his abilities and knowledge… I don't even know precisely how other than having me be his handler, but we… we can. And if he decides we're the better option…"

It sounds terrible, even to Kylo. "He's not as strong as me. He has to know that, even arrogant as he is. I doubt he'd make a direct move against either me, or Danika. He just wants to… go where the pickings are good." 

Poe lifts his hands, resting them on Kylo's arms, around his waist. "He's taken quite a risk coming to us now. No doubt Danika is watching all of the Knights carefully, in case any of the others decide to follow your example." A pause, thoughtful. "Did Tovim have any intel? Anything at all?"

"He piggybacked on a 'humanitarian' mission to the people they just bombed," Kylo drawls, sounding utterly disgusted. Just like Hux to capitalise on a tragedy he caused. Maker, but he hates him. "So yes, it's a risk, but his strength was always mental. He can likely shield from Danika, even if he can't from me."

He pauses. "They also went to Chikara." 

This makes Poe jump. "Chikara?" he repeats. "He _admitted_ to it?"

It lends credence to what Tovim was saying, about considering switching sides. Which is precisely why Poe doesn't trust any of it. But… if the Knights of Ren know about Chikara, they're obviously on the same path.

"Do they know where the Eye was taken?"

Kylo nods, intently. "Yes and no. They heard a name, but he doesn't know where the planet is. I don't know if we can use it to speed up the search, or if we can ask Revan about it. She may have heard of the planet, but not known to look?" 

"We have to move faster. If they find the Eye before we do…" Poe trails off. The concept doesn't bear thinking about, both considering what the Eye's powers are, and what it can be used for. "Anything he knows, we can add to BB-8's search parameters. And… if Revan ever reappears, she might be able to shed some light on it all."

No pun intended.

"It could help us. As long as it isn't a trap." Kylo holds him tighter. "I don't think he could hide that from me, but it's not impossible. Plus, he might not know he's being played. If I were Danika…"

"You think she knows he's here? Or, at least, that we have him, if not precisely where?" It's a disturbing possibility, and Poe knows it – and it's made worse by the fact that they have no way of knowing, because Tovim wouldn't know either. "We have to be careful. We can't let him near the primary base, even if he claims he _does_ want to defect."

"They swept him for bugs and comms devices, and he doesn't have the ability to reach across the galaxy like Snoke did. Until he's given his kit back and relocated off-world… no. I don't think she knows he's here. She might wonder where he is, but he was always the most…" How do you say this politely?

"Prone to wandering."

"I see. I suppose that could work to our advantage. If nothing else, it will be longer before he's missed…"

Poe's eyes darken slightly, and the next question is out of his mouth before he stops to think about it. "Would it be worth putting… a little pressure on him, to see what else he can tell us?"

The arms around the pilot grip tighter, and Kylo isn't sure if he's joking without seeing his face. He hopes he is. He really hopes he is. "Do you think it's wise to lean on people who might want to sign up with us?"

Because much as there'd be an element of satisfaction from doing that… also… no.

"No. You're right. Of course not."

Yes.

What the _fuck_ is wrong with him?

"So what now?" Change of tack. Probably wise. "Are you just going to let him go?"

"Unless you can think of something to do with him that isn't 'and now torture him'? He has to get back before they really do notice he's missing… and before there's any more chance of a compromise." Kylo made damn sure Tovim didn't know the location of the Alpha Site before he came out here. 

Not 'torture', Poe thinks. 'Lean on'.

…Probably best to stay away from that whole issue entirely.

"All right," he says, instead. "So long as he's no risk to us… I guess we need to put him back into play. But I still don't trust him."

"Neither do I. And I don't think I ever will, not really." Which Kylo is sad about, but it's the truth. He sincerely doubts Tovim is capable of change. No… not 'capable', 'willing'. He just plain doesn't want to be any different to how he is.

"Well, then," Poe says, heavily, "I guess we should head back home. I know I was an idiot before, but… if there's some way you could _not_ tell people, I'd be grateful."

"I have no desire to make an issue of it," Kylo agrees. "No harm was actually done. And I've done much more ridiculous things over the years, you know…"

Poe nods, and leans back against him. He isn't at all sure that no harm was done, and he's certainly alarmed by the fact that any of it happened in the first place. But right now… it just feels good to be able to move forward.

He has to, after all. They both do. They can't stop now.


	16. Road To Somewhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, all! As we start the buildup to our next big sequence, have another chapter - in which Danika and Daria try to hold a sensible meeting, Kylo and Poe _do_ hold a sensible meeting, and the road Poe is on starts to become more pronounced.
> 
> Possibly you should start to worry...

The Knights of Ren rarely congregate in more than groups of three for long. Even when the traitor had been training them, it had often been in small units, rather than en masse. Danika had wondered about it, idly, back when it felt like Kylo did it to keep them all dependent on him and from forming alliances with others.

Now, though, she suspects she was – in this instance – too hard on him. Her fellow Knights all have big personalities, and now there is an even number of them, the split is even more obvious. She and Daria have always been a package deal, with Tovim a wildcard who sort-of balanced out against Kylo. The three older Knights are utterly inseparable, as if they are Bonded as well. (Which they aren't. She'd asked.)

And now it is almost becoming 'us' and 'them', meaning Danika knows she has to work doubly hard to keep the trio in check. At least over holo you can (in theory) mute or disconnect someone. In real life?

"Remind me why I don't murder at least Tovim?" she mutters to her sister, knowing there's no one else close enough to hear, yet. 

"Beats me," Daria replies, keeping her own voice down. "Though, if the option is on the table, you could at least share the privilege with your dear twin."

"…I would be tempted, if we didn't have to kill the Jedi, first." Danika taps at the sabre hanging from her hip. "The sooner we can get more recruits the better. Have you got anywhere with a program for them?"

"I have begun some groundwork," Daria answers. "But I still need to make arrangements to have Hux show me the First Order's methods close up." She sighs, obviously not at all happy about the idea. "I am _not_ looking forward to it. I understand the tactical value, but…" Another sigh, deeper this time. "He will spend the entire time crowing about how wonderful his systems are. Stomaching it will not be easy."

"Not to mention I suspect he'll be looking at ways to destroy us, if that vision is… true." Danika's never had one before, and although she understands the rough principles, it's different when you're thrown first-hand into them.

"…it was… hard. To watch." She looks over to her sister, wanting her response aloud.

"It was next to impossible," Daria says in reply, the haunted tone in her voice impossible to miss. "We can't let it happen in reality. We must act before he does."

But they can't act yet. And that is the tricky part.

"I know. I…" It was easier, before. With the Leader to keep Hux and his war machine in check, but now it's Danika. And she knows – oh she knows – that Hux doesn't respect her, not in the slightest. 

Maybe… "Do you think we should do something to convince him to toe the line?"

Daria doesn't answer immediately, obviously thinking. "I don't know," she admits. "On the one hand… yes, because it will make him take us more seriously, and because he deserves it. And on the other… we don't want to push him into acting against us too soon. Certainly not before we're ready. It might be… _wiser_ … to bide our time."

Which is not Danika's favourite thing to do. She's tried patient. Admittedly it led to her being the Master of the Order, but she'd rather have had power change under her own terms, rather than at the Traitor's behest. 

Always with his cast-offs, isn't she? "I suppose you're right. I just…" Snoke had the benefit of age. She's younger than Hux, and he clearly doesn't really respect the Force. It's tricky.

Which is when the door opens and Tovim bounds in, all but bouncing. "What did I miss?"

Beneath her helmet, Daria rolls her eyes. "Hush, now, the grown-ups are still talking."

"Oh, please. You're like, what? Two years older than me?" Tovim grabs a chair, spinning it around to sit straddling the back.

Danika tries very hard not to lower herself to his level. It would take some doing, but she has to be the bigger person (and assign him awful duties later). "Where did you even get to?"

"Oh… wanted to work on PR. You know. I went along to the humanitarian thing on Vikenza. Fun… you get a lot of people very grateful for your help, if you know what I mean…"

He is, Danika thinks, the most disgusting person she's met. "I wonder when… ah, here we go."

The three others arrive, as all but one unit, as expected. First Meryth swaggers in, followed closely by the two men: Fayed and Jolek. All of them are masked.

Danika wonders if they should start having a no-mask policy when they know they won't be interrupted. It might make reading them easier, as she doesn't have the same level of insight into minds that… stop. Stop thinking about him.

It just gets her _angry_.

"Thank you all for joining me," she says.

"We wondered if you'd forgotten us," Fayed drawls.

"How could I ever forget you?"

Fayed shrugs, and sits far from Tovim. The other two move to sit by him.

"I felt it important that we meet face to face, especially considering the news I have," Danika goes on. 

"It's _big_ ," Daria adds. "You're going to be glad you came." She doesn't say why, though; leaving that for Danika. And because it means she can mess with them a little.

"I get that," Meryth says. "Or that you want us to think it."

"It's the truth." Danika wonders, idly, if she was ever this uppity as an underling. "I told you we were looking for Sith artefacts. Well, we believe we've found the location of one. One so powerful that it could change the face of the galaxy forever."

"If it's so important and impressive, why wasn't the Leader using it?"

"He didn't know where it was, or he didn't think he needed it… you know his specialty was contacting other Force-users, something we have lost." Danika waits for that to sink in.

"You found a way to find Force-sensitives?" Jolek asks.

"All of them," Tovim puts in.

Danika wants to smack him: that won't help with the division between the two not-camps. Plus, it's not his news to break. "Yes, we can track them with this crystal."

"We can find them, we can recruit them, and then we can train them," Daria adds. A smile, that they'll hear even though they can't see it. "We can build an army of our own. A Force-using army. A _Dark Side_ army."

That gets their attention. Danika watches with smug pride as the other three shuffle about, glances to one another, then back to her. There's an undeniable air of interest. 

"Where is it, then?" Meryth asks. "And why don't we already have it?"

"We've just found the co-ordinates of a Sith planet. I wanted to make our move en masse. That's why I summoned you all back here," Danika explains. "I want us, and us alone, to take control over the crystal."

"Because it could also be used in a big-old-space-laser," Tovim adds.

Danika knows the other three will also know this. It's just Tovim being Tovim. "To keep control over it." And not let Hux near it unless she wants him there.

"I managed to track it down," Daria explains, sounding extremely pleased with herself. "It took some doing, but there was a great deal of information in those old texts we took from Korriban, and eventually… I found our missing planet. Midwanjontû."

"Mid… what?" Jolek sounds confused.

"It's a Sith word," Tovim crows, even though he didn't know that before, either.

Danika sometimes wonders if she should just run off and form her own order of her and Daria. And then the recruits. Maybe once she's gotten rid of the Traitor and the Jedi… 

Jolek is unmoved by his own ignorance. "So when do we leave?" 

"Immediately," Danika replies. "I've got a shuttle ready." 

"I can't wait to see the place," Daria adds. "It likely hasn't been touched in millennia. Who knows what else we might find there..?"

"Maybe some of those dogs that eat people?" Fayed seems excited.

"…I hope not." Danika is not an animal person. Not in the slightest. "I think Daria meant more 'lore' and 'weapons' and 'techniques'."

"A dog would be a weapon. If it ate people." 

"…if you find a dog you're training it yourself." Danika wonders when she became everyone's _mother_. 

"I'll train two." 

"Fine. You can train two." 

" _Are we there yet?_ " Daria sends over the bond to her sister.

Sometimes, you just can't win.

***

Cool, early-afternoon sunshine plays over the treetops on Tahanan, as a squadron of X-Wings comes in to land. When they're down – each thunking softly onto its own pad – the pilots emerge, their astromechs quickly following suit, and soon the concourse is a swarm of lively activity.

Poe clambers down from _Darth One_ , patting BB-8 on the head as the little astro whirls away – beeping something that he doesn't quite catch – and then shucks off his flight vest, going over to where Snap, Jess and Bastian are already talking together.

"I've got to go catch up with Kylo," Poe says, as they turn. "But I'll see all of you this evening for pazaak night."

"You are so getting your ass kicked this time, Dameron," Snap insists, grinning.

"He sure is," Jess agrees, arm around Snap's waist. "Just not by you."

"You want a rematch, Pava?" Snap asks. "'Cause it sounds like you do…"

"Oh, I _definitely_ do," Jess replies, free arm patting him on the chest. "And then maybe afterwards, we can play cards…"

Her grin is positively wicked.

"Help me," Bastian says to Poe, looking between the other two.

"Not a chance," Poe replies, smiling. "Try to behave yourselves whilst I'm gone. And, if not, at least get some holos of the consequences…"

And, with a chipper wave, he sets off in search of Kylo. They've arranged to meet up once he's back, to head on down to where the Pathfinders are training. It will be the first time they've looked in on the new team, and Poe finds himself oddly eager to see how they're getting on.

Plus… it takes his mind off the fact that, far across space, the emergency Senate session will be starting soon. He knows Leia can't be there, but she's been in contact with several people in advance, and most of the senior staff will be gathering to watch the holo-broadcast of the session itself.

Poe doesn't think he can bear any more politics right now. Sometimes it's better to focus on what he's good at.

Kylo leans back against a tall tree, gazing up at the clouds drifting between the frame of leaf and branch. It's a nice day, and he's enjoying the dappled sunshine as he waits for Poe. The squadron flew over only minutes ago, so he knows it won't be long before his husband finds him.

Thumbs slung into the belt around his hips, his fingers tease over the two sabre-hilts, his attention wandering. It won't be long before he's finished cleansing Snoke's blade. In a way, it will mark the end of him. When his influence over the twin crystals is gone, only his influence over his Knights will remain. And crystals last longer than people, as the one they're hunting proves most obviously.

"There you are," he calls out, when Poe gets close enough. "Good flight?" 

Poe smiles. He's felt somewhat better over the last couple of days – it helps that nothing significant has happened since he and Kylo got back from their trip to Attalor – and, coupled with the flying, his mood is much closer to his usual, bright self.

"It was," he answers. "Going to need to give my guys something more involved soon, though. They're desperate for a decent skirmish."

He paces closer, hands on Kylo's waist, pushing up to kiss him just lightly. "Did you miss me?"

Kylo tilts his head, hand going to cup Poe's jaw as he pulls back from the kiss. His eyes are warm and fond, his expression calmer than most days. There's problems, yes, but he feels… if not serene, then somewhat settled. And Poe always looks happier after he's been flying. 

The Sith wonders if his jaunts planet-side are contributing to Poe's restlessness. Maybe he should find more ways to get him off-world, and aerial. 

"I always miss you. And, if you'd like, I can call Hux and ask for a training match?" he suggests. "Or we could just go looking for a small base to bomb?"

"Depending on how well things go in the Senate today, your mother might be amenable to that idea," Poe answers. "Though why stop at small? The squadron have been fired-up since Zekkan. The bigger, the better…"

He steps back, headtilting down the far end of the concourse, towards the section of the base that has become the Pathfinders' training grounds. "We should go see how Finn and my dad are getting on with their recruits. I know my dad's been impressed with them so far."

"Finn seems to be taking to it well. I know he's decent behind a joystick, but I think he was more born to lead mixed assault than just fly, don't you? Not saying there's anything wrong with either, just…" Kylo shrugs. "Some people have different talents."

"That boy has the potential to be a damn good pilot," Poe replies. "And I'm sorry I didn't get to keep him long-term. But he's meant to be a leader, and he trained all his life – for better or worse – as a soldier."

Plus there's no reason why he can't have both groups of skills. The Resistance can never have too many assets, after all.

"It must be a bit of a culture shock for your father to come back to all this. Although the technology hasn't moved all that much further along." Kylo wonders how much really has changed. He knows first-hand that the Order hasn't moved along much, and neither has the Republic or the Resistance.

Too much time spent surviving to innovate, after all.

"I think that's more of a shock, if anything," Poe answers. "He feels like he's just stepped back in time. Like the last thirty years just… vanished."

It's a good thing and a bad thing, in equal measure. But Poe doesn't think his father regrets it, so perhaps that makes it a good thing overall.

"Same shit, different… decade." Kylo can see how that would be unsettling. "Well, means he doesn't need to learn much in the way of new hardware."

Ahead of them, Kes and Finn are leading the small group through sniping exercises. Long range targets sit waiting for their shots, lit up by tiny lasers or viewed through scopes. Each man has half the contingent, and bolts snap out at regular, slow intervals. 

Finn sees them first, waving without speaking. He doesn't want to put the shooter off. Once the round rings true, he says a few encouraging words and tells them to continue, before walking over to the newcomers. "Nice to see you here." 

"How's it going?" Poe asks, looking along the line of young soldiers. He watches as another shot hits home, and smiles. "They seem to be doing well."

"They're doing great. General Organa picked the best for us," Finn enthuses. "They're really bonding together as a unit."

"That's no doubt thanks to you," Kylo says. "You and Sergeant Dameron."

"I'm just here to nudge them in the right direction," Kes says, getting up from where he's been helping another of the recruits fine-tune their shots, and pacing over. "I have every confidence they're going to do great things."

"They'll probably get their chance sooner rather than later," Poe points out. "I know you've only had a couple of days so far, but… will they be ready?"

"They will. I mean, they're already good soldiers, but we're improving on the specific skill-set needed for this unit," Finn answers. "And team cohesion. You can't rush something like that. It has to develop."

"Spoken like a true leader," Kylo says, with a small smile. "They already respect you."

"Nah. It's the title. They see 'Sergeant' and they step into line," Finn demurs. 

Kylo looks slightly wistful. "Trust me when I say, no amount of titles makes up for a poor man – or woman – behind them." 

"Kylo's quite right," Kes agrees. "It's _you_ they follow, not the rank. Although if you _did_ need to make them step into line, you could always switch to 'Darth' instead, given that you're apparently one of those too…"

He's grinning a little as he speaks. It's taken Poe several tricky conversations over the last couple of days to explain both why he and Finn are technically Darths as well and, more crucially, why this is not a bad thing. But it does seem to have worked, in the end.

"Yeah, but I think they might be confused because I'm the only one without one of those," Finn says, nodding at Poe's hip, and then Kylo's.

"Trust me, you don't want the spare one I have." Kylo would give it to him, if it weren't for the connotations, for the Dark cloud he's still trying his hardest to dispel from it. 

"Maybe we should just get me a broken one, huh?" Finn smirks. "I'm fine, don't worry. No actual envy here." 

"Hey, mine's a blaster really," Poe reminds him, hand going to the weapon at his hip: the blaster built from Kylo's old lightsabre. "Good thing, too – I'm much better with one of those than I am with a sabre."

Though it's obvious from the look in his eyes that he wouldn't turn one down if given the chance.

"Finn's had some practice of his own," Rey points out. She's been meditating under a tree a little way off – apparently the sound of weapons' fire is helpful in that respect – but paces over to join them now, putting a hand on Finn's arm. "Maybe we should get Poe and Finn to duel sometime…"

There's a wicked little flicker in her eyes.

"And watch me get my ass handed to me by a younger man?" Poe replies, with a laugh.

Kes shrugs. "Could be entertaining…"

" _Dad_ ," Poe says, just about managing not to laugh.

"You're very handy with my sabre," Kylo says, utterly innocently. 

"…you know we're right here?" Finn asks.

"Yes. He is particularly skilled at shooting down rocks," Kylo continues. "From the air." 

"I'm particularly skilled at shooting down all kinds of things," Poe adds. "It's what I do."

"I think Kylo was talking about something else," Rey stage-whispers.

"I think I'm not having this conversation in front of my _father_ ," Poe stage-whispers back.

"What was that?" Kes cuts in, with an air of mock-innocence (clearly where Poe gets it from, although Kes seems to be more convincing).

"Nothing, Dad," Poe insists, quickly. "Although I…"

He's interrupted by a frantic series of beeps further up the concourse, seconds before BB-8 comes hurtling towards them as fast as its chassis will carry it. The little astro whirls up, spinning around them all several times before bumping up against Poe excitedly and saying something in Binary, very, very rapidly.

"Wait, what?" Poe exclaims, dropping down onto one knee so he can stare right at BB-8. "Seriously?"

The droid whirls back and spins around several more times, before rolling under the shadow of the nearest tree and projecting a star-map into midair. It isn't easy to see, given the sunlight, but it doesn't need to be to get the point across.

"BB-8 found our missing planet," Poe says, rising to his feet again. "The planet the Eye was taken to. We know where it is."

"We need to go there, right now," Kylo says. " _Right now_."

"We're coming, right?" Finn asks.

"We need to keep me and Rey apart." Kylo doesn't like it, but they did say they would. For security. And contingency reasons. 

"Usually we do, but you said we'd all do this together," Rey points out, levelly. "If this really is where the Eye was taken, we need to face it with everything we've got. And that means all of us."

"Perhaps it means more than just the four of you," Kes adds, gesturing to the Pathfinders. "I know this unit is still new, but everyone in it is combat-ready. And nothing will bond them quite like a real mission."

Kylo squirms from foot to foot, uncomfortably. It's probably right. Something like this is important, and… "We know the Knights of Ren are also looking for the planet, thanks to Tovim. Are they ready to face that?"

"…as ready as anyone ever can be," Finn answers. "Not saying we'd win any lightsabre duels, but we can provide a lot of support." 

"And we might need it," Poe adds. "If we run into the Knights of Ren… they'll most likely have Stormtroopers with them. Without soldiers of our own to back us up, we risk being overwhelmed. Especially if all of the Knights are there."

"We have to do this right," Rey says. "We have to make sure it ends with us in control of the Eye. The alternatives… don't bear thinking about."

"You want to notify General Organa, while I brief the troops?" Finn asks.

"Yes, we need to clear our ships. We can take the _Phoenix_ , plus whatever craft you've been given."

"Makes sense," Poe agrees. "We'll go speak to the General, and then I'll get the _Phoenix_ prepped. And then… we do this."

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't apprehensive about it all, but it doesn't show. Not unless you can feel it through the Force.

"We'll be ready," Finn promises. 

Kylo isn't sure he is.

***

Poe isn't sure where they're going.

OK, this is not strictly true. They're going to a planet that, judging by the known star charts and gravitational calculations, apparently exists. But they have no idea if it _actually_ exists, nor what it's really like.

 _Midwanjontû_. That's what Tovim Ren had said it was called. Which, according to Rey, means something about a way to acquire power. And that is just unnecessarily ominous.

Besides, Poe had gotten so used to calling it 'the nameless planet' that switching is tricky. Even if the actual name does seem to be as apt as it is worrying.

Poe is once more at the controls of the _Phoenix_ , though the only ones onboard are himself, Kylo, and BB-8. That's because the Pathfinders are all aboard their new ship, a troop carrier that has been named the _Scion_ , which is being piloted by Rey and Finn. Both ships are currently in hyperspace, en route to the galactic co-ordinates where – they hope – their missing planet will be found.

It's a long journey, deep inside the Unknown Regions once more. Poe doesn't know precisely what they'll find when they arrive… but, on the other hand, he also _does_.

A temple on a desert world, under a sky filled with stars.

A temple whose walls run with blood. Though, hopefully, only in a metaphorical sense this time.

"You want to talk about it, or…?" Because Kylo can still feel the tension pouring off Poe like waves. And frankly, it makes sense. The vision they had of this planet – or what he assumes will be this planet – had been truly horrifying.

He can still feel the blood under his boots. Still… smell it. Even though they hadn't truly been there. It had been disgusting, and he'd been utterly glad when they'd woken up not covered in it.

Still had to shower harder than usual for three days following. 

"I know where we're going," Poe says, softly. He doesn't, and he does, and it's weird. "I know what we're supposedly going to find there. And… I know one version of where it takes us. And I don't like any of it. Not the temple of blood, not the dark future… none of it."

And I know something is wrong. Something in _me_. But things have been better for the last couple of days, and he can't quite bring himself to say it.

"We're not going to let that dark thing happen, Poe. We didn't last time, did we?" Kylo reaches over for Poe's left hand, finger sliding over the metal band circling his ring finger. "None of that came true for us. We won. We beat Snoke. We'll beat this." 

Poe lets his fingers lace through Kylo's, holding tight. "No. We didn't let it. We won, and I know it. I do."

So why don't I feel it?

No. No. He is not sinking back into this again. With the ship on autopilot – as it will be for some time, given the length of the hyperspace flight to their destination – Poe gets up, turns, and slips lightly onto Kylo's lap, straddling his hips and resting their foreheads together.

Kylo doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around him, holding him tight to himself. He doesn't understand what's going on, just that his husband is distressed and he can't fix it. He wonders if this is something like his family felt, way back when, and his stomach lurches uncomfortably.

"I'm here," he whispers, and pushes softly against his mind. "What do you need from me?" 

" _You_ ," Poe breathes, over Kylo's lips. He isn't pushing for anything, per se, because this is not about that. This is _deeper_. Though you could be forgiven for thinking otherwise, considering the position he's in, and the waves of emotion radiating off him. "We've been through so much. So very much. And yet… I haven't forgotten what I offered to you, that very first time. I haven't forgotten what I promised to you, that night under the stars on Tahanan. And I…"

…need to affirm it. Need you to know. Everything is so complicated, but this is still as simple as it ever was. And that need burns in him, as bright as ever.

Both hands curl around his face, and Kylo kisses very softly back, just a tiny little press of lips together. He slides ever deeper into Poe's head, and flickers around, finding the emotional arcs and sending them higher. 

"Can I try to make you feel better? Can I let you feel how I feel? Try to fix what's going wrong?" He wouldn't without asking. Wouldn't attempt to break something, but Poe's distress and pain hurts like a blaster-bolt.

"I want to make you happy, Poe. I want to make you feel safe." 

" _Anything_ ," Poe whispers, that fervent look back in his eyes again. "I meant it. I mean it. And you know I trust you. You know I will _always_ trust you."

And even the slightest presence in his mind is intoxicating. It always has been, even when it _shouldn't_ have been, and he never stops wanting it. Never stops _craving it_.

"Please," he says, soft and sure, not breaking eye-contact. "Please. I want you to."

Kylo nods, and then slams with all he has into Poe's head. He has hold of him, in case he wobbles. In case the force of the contact makes him waver. He can trip switches, but he's never been keen on doing it if it invalidates someone's will.

But. But Poe wants it, and Poe's said yes, and it's okay. It's okay to push the darker feelings down, to search through his memories for a happier sensation. He tugs at that, making his own chest fill with a bubbly laugh at the change-over.

Maybe it won't be permanent, but he can make him happy, now. Right here, right now. He finds the day they took down the _Decimator_ , the joy afterwards. The freedom, the success. He can all but smell the stench of cannon-fire as he does it. "There…"

The thrill of power is intoxicating too. Poe doesn't look away – he hardly even blinks – but his expression goes somewhat distant as the sensation chases through him, the memory, the wave of victory.

One of the greatest days of his life.

"I would win you the stars, if you asked me to," he says, voice full of the same fervour that's still in his eyes. "Anything. I mean it."

"You already did, Poe. You won the Light back for me." Kylo takes a slow, slow breath. "Let… let me show you."

Because his own happy memories are bitter-sweet, but they are still sweet. He slips further back. D'Qar. Walking out of a TIE-Interceptor. The swell of hope and deep affection and joy at being defended. The terror mixed with longing at seeing his mother again.

The knowledge that Poe had saved him. It's a complicated thing, like a slap and then a stroke. Stinging, and soft. "You gave me everything, Poe. Everything."

"You saved me too, you know," Poe says, hand on the side of Kylo's face. "I was so very lost… looking for something I didn't understand, and couldn't find… and then there you were."

His expression is almost fond, even given the circumstances of their first proper meeting. "Have I told you recently how much I love you?"

"Not in the last thirty seconds, so I have entirely forgotten," Kylo says, his expression warm and heartfelt. "We saved each other, then. Light can't exist without Dark. I can't exist without you." 

"And I can't exist without you," Poe answers. "I love you. More than anything and everything and a great deal extra besides." Fingertips tracing over Kylo's cheek, wondering at him, before he presses their foreheads together again, closing his eyes.

Kylo lets his fingers curl through Poe's dark hair, chasing the wave of it, and then pushes his nose against Poe's. "Do you think we need to maybe… make this ship ours, properly?" Now that it seems to be their personal craft. 

That makes Poe open his eyes again, meeting Kylo's. "You know I'd do anything you say," he answers, with traces of a smirk. " _Master_."

It really is all in the intonation.

"Well… would you like to take this somewhere I can't drop you on buttons, or do you want to risk accidentally… making all of the Pathfinders capable of blackmailing us?" Kylo grins, shark-like. 

"Oh, I think we should stay _far_ away from the comm controls," is Poe's reply. His father may not be on the other ship, but most of the people Kes now works with are. Plus… once was enough. "But I'm sure there are _plenty_ of other places this would work. All it will take it a little creativity… and a wicked mind."

And, right now, both of those things sound good.

"So you don't want to see what kind of bed I used to sleep on, wishing I was back with you?" Kylo asks, grabbing him tightly as he rises in one clean, smooth movement. 

Poe goes with the movement, not resisting in the slightest. "I want what you want," he answers, and he means it. "I am _yours_." But it's more than that, and the feeling burning in his chest is so much stronger.

_I want you happy. I want you invincible. I want your enemies in my sights so I can end them. I want to make you ruler of the g–_

…OK, seriously, where are these thoughts coming from?

He just has to hope they don't show.

Kylo sort of… falters slightly as he's carrying him, head to one side, peering at him. "What?" 

Fuck.

"…Nothing?" Poe tries. Even leaving aside the fact that his husband can read minds, why does Poe have to be so bad at hiding things?

"Poe… that was more than just… bedroom talk," Kylo says, as he takes him in and gently sits him down on the bed. "Plus, we weren't in the bedroom." 

"I can't control every thought that crosses my mind." Yes, right, because _defensive_ is the sensible way to play this. Sure. "You know I'm _more_ than happy for you to be up there, but some of what you'll find is just… idle. Idle flickers. You don't have to read too much into them."

Kylo takes his hand in his own. "If it was idle, why are you acting like I just found you with your hand in the cookie jar? Poe… this isn't like you at all. I don't know what's doing this, but I'm. I'm worried, okay? I am."

Why? Because he's the galaxy's worst liar, that's why.

"Don't be. I'm fine. A little apprehensive about where we're going, but otherwise just fine."

"Right." And now he's shutting Kylo out. Great. 

The Sith stands, hand going through his hair. "Maybe… maybe we should book you in to see someone. I bet you're overdue. Maybe it could help you ground some more?"

And that's when something gives in Poe's head. He isn't conscious of it – it's questionable how much of this he actually _is_ conscious of – but it makes him act all at once. He stands too, pushing Kylo back against the nearest wall, suddenly right in his face. It is _difficult_ to pull off 'right in your face' when you are a great deal shorter than the person in question, but somehow he manages it.

"I don't want to talk. I want to fight. I want to _win_. I want to find every last person who hurt you and make sure they never hurt anyone else. I want to find the First Order and blast them to oblivion for what they've done to my allies. My _people_. I want to break this constant cycle of conflict and _make things right_."

Hands come up, grabbing Poe by the upper arms, lifting him from the ground and holding him at a distance. "We _are winning_ , Poe," Kylo insists. "And the one who hurt me is gone. We **are** winning. But we won't hold the upper ground if you continue like this. You're going to _become_ them."

Poe's eyes darken at the implication, though more with horror than anything else. "Never. Not ever. I would rather _die_."

He tries to struggle free, but it isn't exactly easy, and he's not sure what he'd do if it worked. Possibly run for it.

Kylo holds on tighter, trying to push calm and reassurance into him, trying to make him feel safe. Secure. Loved. "You have to fight the Dark. You have to walk the middle. If you're angry, don't let it rule. Let it feed you, but not control you. Do you remember what the Jedi said about the Dark – the Dark on its own?"

" _I don't have the Force_." Poe's said it so many times – sometimes in resignation, sometimes in amusement, sometimes in acceptance. Never like this. "I don't have the Dark, I don't have the Light. I just have _me_."

He can feel Kylo trying to calm him, but something inside – something subconscious – is fighting it. He doesn't want to be calm. He wants to _act_.

"We all have the Force in us. It's in you, even if you can't control it. It's there. The Light, the Dark… they're in every being, not just the ones who can float boxes and read minds." Kylo gently lowers him, and moves his hands to curl around Poe's face. 

"You are so bright in the Force, Poe. So very bright. And I can see both in you, and… that's okay. But you have to be in control."

" _Bright_ ," Poe repeats, the word a soft, emotionless whisper. "Bright, but powerless. And in this context… it is not a feeling I enjoy."

"You have power. You don't need to float things or read minds to have _power_. Your squadron would follow you into the heart of a star if you told them to. You're stronger than me, because you do so much without ever using the Force yourself." 

On some level, Poe knows this is true. He does. He knows the things he's done, the things he's achieved. He knows he nigh-on re-wrote half the galaxy just by being a stubborn, cocky bastard around the man who took him prisoner. He knows he probably re-wrote the _whole_ galaxy the day he took a single ship up against a Star Destroyer and _won_.

He knows. But sometimes knowing really is only half the battle.

"I can't make it stop," he whispers, sinking to sit on the bed again. "This need to act. It burns in my chest like an endless fire and I can't make it stop."

"Then we get you to do something else, instead. We get you to act… without it being like this?" Kylo sits on the bed, next to him. A hand on his knee, a worried expression on his face. 

"We find actions that make you feel like you're getting somewhere? Maybe push for more combat missions?"

"It isn't that. I'm not exactly sitting around waiting for things to happen." On the contrary, Poe hasn't really stopped for months. For ever. He isn't the type.

A deep breath, and he shakes his head. "I'm sure it's nothing. I'm just frustrated by what happened on Vikenza."

And by that blond maniac who used to follow you about and is clearly up to something. And by having my father around, bringing up difficult memories. And…

…No. Nothing.

"It's not just that, Poe." Kylo grabs the back of his head, pulls him in to kiss his brow. "What is it you really want? What is it you… need. Long-term. The end of the Order?" 

"The end of the Order. Peace. Justice. Freedom." It's clear how much Poe means what he's saying – he sounds ready to get up and salute – but there's something else beneath his words. Not any sense of falsehood, but rather… something _more_.

"I want this order, _our_ order – the Knights of Eigengrau – to endure for a thousand ages. I want everyone to see that you were right, that Revan – in the end – was right. I want you to _win_ , Kylo. Since the moment I became yours… I have wanted nothing the way I want that."

"…do…" Kylo shuffles, a little nervously. "Do you think maybe the Eye is… talking to you?" Because. Because this is the kind of fervour he's used to hearing… from Hux. Not from Poe. Not like this. 

It's not that he doesn't also want these things, it's more that Poe seems to be – well – more than a little frightening right now, in his drive. 

…The _fuck_?

Poe stares at him. " **Talking** to me?" he repeats. "How could it be talking to me? We don't even have the thing. And I don't even have the Force. And… "

He gets up again, backing off slightly. "…You think there's something wrong with me." It isn't a question. And, on some level, he recognises how ridiculous all of this is. He _knows_ full-well that something is wrong. But hearing it implied…

"Poe, you saw Revan through me. Don't you think it's at least possible that the crystal could also reach you?" It would make sense, on some level. 

Kylo reaches, leaning towards him, trying to touch his arm. "I think you're under a lot of pressure." 

Some part of Poe wants to keep insisting that all of this is ridiculous. That it can't be true. That it isn't. But… on another level, he knows it's possible. And he's calmed enough to be able to consider that with at least a slightly rational edge.

"If it _can_ affect me… then I'm a liability," he says, softly. Not liking the thought in the slightest. "I can't fight it, after all. Maybe… I should be restricted to the base again. Until we're sure."

The very thought is hell, and not just because of the connotations.

"You can fight it. It's not a person. I mean… I think you can…" Kylo frowns. "I'm not leaving you alone, no matter what. If I go off-world, you're coming too."

If nothing else, he feels the need to protect Poe, and… others. From Poe.

Well. Shit.

"Cooping you up would likely drive you to the brink, right now."

"Doesn't matter. If I'm a liability, I'm a liability." Poe can feel his mind shutting down, the thoughts – the implications – too much to contemplate. This can't be right. It can't. But if it _is_ … he can't risk the mission, and he certainly can't risk the people on it.

There is nothing he can do. Absolutely nothing. And he does not like it one bit.

"And why me?" he wonders, aloud. "Why not Rey, or Finn? Why not _you_?"

"…I don't know. Maybe it's coming for me. Maybe it's because of that planet, because we saw things. I… honestly don't know. The Force works in ways we don't always understand." Times like this Kylo wishes there really were someone he could turn to for actual advice. Like, really answer things. 

"We just have to hope it makes sense in time." 

"If you really think I'm compromised, you have to leave me on the ship," Poe says, hating every word. "When we get to our destination, assuming this planet actually exists. You have to leave me on the ship, or we put the whole mission at risk. We can't risk this thing falling into the First Order's hands."

"And leave you alone where I can't make sure you're not – Poe, _no_. If you don't come, then I don't go, and we'll stay behind and let Rey lead the missions." 

Which risks them. Which risks everything. He just can't leave Poe alone again, not after – not… not after. Before. 

"Then your only other option is to let me be a part of this. And… to keep a very close eye on me, in case you're right, and something _is_ affecting me."

It is. It isn't. It can't be. What if it is? Poe can't tell from one minute to the next. His mind is running too fast.

Kylo rises and grabs his shoulder, holding on tight. He takes a breath, and leans in to kiss Poe softly. "I'll protect you. Like I should have done last time. I won't fail you, not this time. I will do _everything_ in my power, I swear." 

"You have _never_ failed me," Poe insists, fiercely. "Never. And I… I will be all right."

If only wishing made it so.

He did. Kylo did, once. Aboard the _Decimator_. He doesn't want to mention it, right now, though. He's tried very hard since then to never fuck up again, though. 

"We're destroying it. The Eye. One use, and… gone. If it can do this to you, when you aren't even around it… this is why the Sith wanted it, isn't it?" 

"We don't know for sure that it's affecting me," Poe replies. "I might just be… under a lot of pressure. Like you said."

It's a weak argument, but it could still be true. Right? After all, if this thing can reach across the galaxy to a non-Force-sensitive, why couldn't a powerful Force-user like Revan find it? Or Kylo, for that matter?

"…I still won't risk you. Or anyone, but especially you." They've seen what it's capable of, how it could turn them. How it could make them… be what they feared most in the galaxy. 

No. Kylo does not think it is worth the risk. "I'm half of a mind to try blow up the whole damn planet and hope the crystal goes with it."

"We still need to understand it," Poe says, trying to sound level and sensible. Aware that possibly he doesn't. "I… realise it might be a good idea to destroy it once we do, but… I don't think we should be hasty."

"Why not? Poe… it's bad news. I… want the benefits, I do. But at what cost? There has to be a limit. There has to be something that's one sacrifice too much." And Kylo might be prepared to sacrifice himself, but he is not – and will not – sacrifice Poe like this. 

"I'll play this however you choose, Kylo," Poe answers, softly. "You know that. I just don't want you to miss something that might benefit your new Order. But however you decide to proceed… I will see it done."

"The Order is important," he agrees, "…but my uncle started his without this, and so did the Jedi and the Sith for thousands of years. It's not like we'll definitely fail without it." 

"You won't fail," Poe says. "I have no doubt about that."

A little sigh, not quite making eye-contact. "I'm sorry if I was… weird."

"It's okay," Kylo reassures him. "Really. I mean it. It's… okay to sometimes feel… not yourself, you know? I don't just love you for the good days, Poe Dameron. I married you for all of them."

Almost cautiously, Poe steps in, wrapping his arms up around Kylo's shoulders and – finally – meeting his eyes. "And you have me for all of them," he answers. "I will always be yours."

"Now… do you want me to kiss you better?" Kylo asks "We have an hour, don't we?" Maybe a little less, now, but they still have time. "Or… would you rather I just hold you until the proximity alert?"

Poe can't hold back a smirk. "Kylo, anything you choose to do with me… _to_ me… you know I'll love."

Which is an open invitation, really.

"Let's see if we can make you smile, make you forget your troubles for a while… about time you got dragged back to the Light. Or… well. The _fun_ Dark…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...mwahahahaha, smut cliffhanger! We'll see you all on Wednesday..! ;-)


	17. Marked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday, folks! It's new chapter day, and you know what that means... Smut! Well, not always smut. Sometimes plot. But smut today!
> 
> Advance warning: this one contains some pretty heavy knifeplay (and therefore some blood). It's easily the strongest we've done in this 'verse, so be warned. Or, y'know, sit back and enjoy... ;-)

It's impossible to miss the flicker in Poe's eyes at Kylo's words, nor the way he leans in closer. "'The _fun_ Dark'?" he repeats. "I _see_. And what, precisely, would such a thing entail..?"

"Well… for one," Kylo says, lifting his hand to slide the knuckles of his right hand over Poe's cheek, down to the side of his mouth, "…surrender. To _passion_. It is the highest good, after all."

A shiver runs through Poe, and it's obvious how caught he is. How _drawn_. "You know all you have to do is say the word," he manages. Hopeful. _Craving_.

"Kneel," Kylo says. Simple. Direct. To the point. He doesn't push with his hands: he doesn't need to. One word is enough. 

Poe drops at once. His mind may be a torrent of confusion and confliction, but when it comes to Kylo, he has no doubts. Nothing but absolute certainty. He falls gracefully to his knees, right in front of his lover, head bowed.

This is better. This is – this is _right_. Kylo pushes fingers through Poe's hair, gently teasing at the curls, admiring the posture and the submission in one. "Would you do anything I asked of you, pilot?" 

"You know I would," Poe answers, softly, not raising his head. Even just having those fingers in his hair sends a spiral of need down his spine, and he has to concentrate to keep his breathing level, and not sound _too_ desperate. "Anything you ask. Anything for you."

"Really?" Kylo grabs his locks, dragging Poe's head back, forcing eye-contact. "I'm sure there are things you would refuse. Aren't there?" 

"I trust you," Poe replies, level and sure. He isn't afraid, even at the implied threat. Perhaps he should be, but… he isn't. (Not yet, at least.) "I know that you would never ask for something I couldn't give, or truly wouldn't want. You made that clear right from the start, and I have never doubted it."

He can hear it again, in his mind: the soft rush of the waterfall on Eigengrau, that night. The _first_ night. He'd known, then, that Kylo wanted more than just to fuck him and be done with it. So very much more. It's one of the many things that made Poe fall in love with the man.

It's true that Kylo wouldn't. Not in his right mind. He'd never ask Poe to hurt children, to injure those they love. He'd never ask him to do something he wouldn't do himself (and he would also do some things he'd never ask), but only in his right mind.

And what if the Eye talks to me, he wants to ask. What if it makes me Dark, bad, wrong? What if I order you to do something..?

But Kylo doesn't ask that. Instead, he bends Poe backwards, makes him lean so far behind that he nearly falls. 

"Only your mouth," Kylo orders. He doesn't need to bind Poe's wrists, he can do it with his tongue. 

As if in instinctive response, Poe's hands drift behind his back: a silent sign of obedience, as well as a way of reminding himself. To make sure other instincts don't overtake. "Yes, Master," he replies, still looking up. Ready to act, as soon as Kylo lets him. " _Anything_."

"Show me how much you worship me, flyboy. Show me what that sarcastic mouth of yours is better put to work for." He lets go of his hair, giving him a small amount of freedom for himself. 

And Poe leans in at once, clasping his hands more tightly behind his back as he pushes in to mouth roughly over the front of Kylo's pants. It's an initiation, a promise of more to come, and he only does it for a moment before he starts working on undressing the other man with his teeth. And his tongue. Some of it requires his tongue. And all of it requires more than a little practice.

Luckily, he's had some.

He murmurs in pleasure as he finally manages to work Kylo's cock free, circling the tip with his tongue, letting it brush over his lips. But no more, not yet – because Kylo did say 'worship', which does not mean 'immediately deep-throat'. (Not 'immediately'. Soon.)

So, instead, Poe starts to kiss along the length of his lover's cock, teasing at the tender skin, working his way to the base. Kylo's balls are still a little caught by his clothing, but that's merely an excuse for Poe to spend a moment getting them free, too, and if that happens to involve his tongue a great deal… well, surely that's got to be a good thing.

Poe is definitely good at this, and Kylo has to bite his lip – hard – to keep from moaning too soon. He puts his hands on Poe's shoulders, thumbs sliding in to chase the curve of his bones. He pushes gently at Poe's mind, a sensation of affection and possessiveness curled up together.

"Good boy, make me proud of you," he purrs, and rocks his hips very slightly forwards to ask for more. 

" _Always, Master_ ," Poe sends along their bond, not saying it out loud because his mouth is busy. With Kylo's balls free, he rolls them with his tongue, keeping the contact a little rough because he knows it will feel so much more strongly. Eventually, he starts to work back along Kylo's cock, letting the edges of his teeth scrape just slightly as he does.

And then, slow, slow circles around the tip again, albeit circles that spiral deeper as Poe starts to take his lover's cock into his mouth, going about halfway before he pulls back, and repeats… but deeper, and deeper again…

Kylo can't hold off forever, reaching for the back of Poe's head, not guiding or forcing, just feeling the way he moves. A rattle of pleasure, and he starts to rock in sync with the pilot's movements. 

"That's right… swallow it all. Show me how every bit of your body belongs to me. Show me why I love you, and only you." It isn't just the sex, of course it isn't, but he knows Poe will understand that. 

Poe starts to move a little faster, the hand on his head – and Kylo's words – spurring him on. He manages not to go all-out, all at once, though; trying to maintain the slow build that he's been working on.

He's taking Kylo deep now, not quite at the point where it starts to become more challenging, but getting close, tongue swirling along the underside of his cock with each slow pull back, each firm push forwards. Wanting to make this _good_. Wanting to make it so good that, eventually, Kylo won't be able to resist taking _everything_.

That really is an enticing thought. Poe starts to move faster still.

The Sith isn't about to break his cool so soon, not when Poe has a lot to prove. As wonderful as it does feel to have his mouth and throat work, he has to maintain his position, has to keep control. He does, however, let a little growl out.

"Is that the best you can do?" 

It isn't. Of course it isn't. If you start with the best, where do you go from there? You get your target set, lock your approach, make your run, getting gradually closer and closer to your goal, and only in the last moment do you prove to the whole galaxy what you're made of, and…

…if given half a chance, Poe's mind can turn flying into a metaphor for _anything_. Though it's certainly an apt one right now, given his mindset. His desire to succeed.

His need to _prove himself_.

He takes Kylo as deep as he can go, and holds. And holds. And _holds_ … and then pulls sharply back, allowing himself a quick, necessary breath before he pushes forwards again, just as deeply, just as firmly.

And again. And _again_.

That's more like it, Kylo thinks, grinning. But he doesn't let Poe rest on his laurels, yanking him off his cock and slapping him roundly across the face. Just for the shock of it, and then he steps back, tucking his cock away and closing his pants. "Strip. **Now**." 

The blow certainly comes a surprise, and Poe keeps his head down as he does as he's told. The top half is easy, the bottom half a little trickier, though it's not as though he hasn't had any practice at this. And, though it would be quicker and far more graceful if he wasn't on his knees, he doesn't even contemplate rising.

When he's done, he moves back into his original position, still on his knees – but not sitting on his heels – with his hands clasped behind his back.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. He'd also be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it.

"You only get to enjoy this to completion if I approve," Kylo says. "Do you understand? Your pleasure is mine to grant, or to deny. And you've not really been a good little Sith recently, have you?"

He gestures with one hand, lifting Poe from the ground with the Force. Lifting, and holding him suspended completely, face-down, as though lying on an invisible bed. 

That takes Poe a little by surprise, and he gasps as he's lifted, and at the reminder of just how powerful Kylo is. Just what he can _do_ , and with such ease.

It never stops being breathtaking. And slightly, gloriously terrifying.

"I understand, Master," he answers. "And… no. No. I haven't." His skin prickles at the admission.

"You've been a very bad Sith," Kylo concludes. "And sadly, I don't have the necessary things here, so I'm going to improvise." 

He doesn't touch him, not physically. He doesn't need to, but the sudden sensation of constriction that winds around Poe's chest feels like rope squeezing him tightly. "I'm going to remind you that you're _mine_." The tendrils wind lower, over his thighs, pulling them spread wide open at the same time he pulls his wrists, star-fishing him out. 

" _Fuck_ ," Poe breathes, in shock, closing his eyes as the Force-tendrils wrap around him like that, making him hyper-aware of his own body. Of how very, very vulnerable he is right now. Flickers of fear run through him, but there's arousal as well, and the combination of the two is heady and intoxicating. "Yes, Master. Please. Please remind me."

"And when you think about straying, about wandering from my side… you remember this." This, of course, being the sudden push into him, a finger made only of intent. Kylo moves to stand before him, wanting to see his face as he fucks him like this. Wanting to _watch_.

Poe's eyes are wide, and already somewhat unfocused. "I would never stray," he insists, sounding almost a little hurt by the implication. "I would never wander. I am _yours_. I have never wanted anything more than to _be_ yours."

"I did not mean _romantically_ ," Kylo says, his tone a little sharp. "But from our joint path together, the thin line between both. You _were_ wandering. Our path is not easy to walk, but I know you'll come back." 

"Everything I have done, I have done for you," Poe insists. "Because I believe in you. Because I believe in what you're doing. I… I only ever wanted to see you triumph…"

"There are things you shouldn't do, no matter what the outcome is, Poe. Some things – some things – are not worth it, no matter the end result." Kylo steps in, cups his jaw, makes sure he sees his eyes. The tendrils slide around him, and he stoops to kiss his temple. "It is not 'whatever the cost', my pilot. Some things are beyond that." 

"Yes, Master," Poe answers, barely more than a whisper, closing his eyes once he's spoken. Not quite able to maintain eye-contact after that. Scared that maybe he has gone too far, and hating the thought that he might have hurt Kylo in the process.

He never wanted that. Not ever.

"It's all right. You've never done that, have you? I have. That's why I know." Kylo steps close, pulling Poe's head to his hip, stroking at the nape of his neck. "Let my warning help you, and keep you enough in the Light." 

Poe nods, though he still can't meet Kylo's eyes as he does. "I'm sorry," he whispers. He knows he's been flying off the handle. Knows he lost control, that day on Attalor. But it hurts, because he still doesn't know _why_ he lost control so badly. Only that he did it for reasons he thought were right.

Is that the start of the slippery slope?

"Stay with me," Kylo says, his voice soft and insistent. He tightens the invisible ligatures, squeezes them so hard that it restricts blood flow, then eases. Tenses, then eases. Making Poe aware of every bit of his limbs, the pressure inside turning harder. 

He lets go of his head, letting it fall, stroking down over his spine with one thumb, the physical touch overlapping the Force-based one. 

"I'm here," Poe replies, fervent. "I will always be here; here with you, where I belong. I love you. I need you. I…"

He trails off, lost, and suddenly afraid of the thoughts he can still feel, at the back of his head. Thoughts that, even when he pushes them away, never fade completely.

Kylo senses the flicker, and he forces his presence into Poe's mind, trying to chase it out. Trying to blaze hope and love through the void, to be a reassurance and a grounding in one. 

Blunt nails scrape up over Poe's spine, then back down again, making stark points of contact for him to focus on. " _Stay_." 

" _Oh_ ," Poe gasps at that, caught between pain and bliss, both physical and mental. "I am. I will. I'm here. I'm yours…"

The other man's presence in his mind is enough to push the thoughts back down, and to ratchet his arousal higher again. He can't deny how much he loves this, even through the confliction. Few feelings are more perfect, more intimate. More _them_.

Kylo reaches into his pockets, pulling out the utility tool he always carries. A thumb-flick and the tiny vibroblade springs out. "Hold still. I wouldn't want to cut things off that you might need."

The Force makes sure all Poe can do is wriggle hands and feet, move his head and slightly arch his spine. Which is good, because Kylo applies the edge of the blade gently – oh so gently – to one shoulderblade. He starts to etch in very lightly, barely drawing blood and mostly drawing sensation as he describes the Sith emblem on Poe's left side. 

Given that there's no 'up' in space, Poe's mind doesn't so much go through the roof as go in all directions. At once. He gasps in shock, in fear, in _pleasure_ , the world seeming to disappear in a haze save for this immediate place, this immediate moment.

"… _fuck_ …" he manages, not having expected that at all. "Fuck… please… I…"

"Please: what?" Kylo asks, licking his thumb and tracing over the faint score-marks, following the abraded skin, making sure the touch burns hot with every inch of it. 

A good question. A good question with too many honest, contradictory answers. Please stop. Please don't stop. Harder. Mercy. Hurt me. Love me. I'm yours.

"…anything…" Poe whispers, the sting and the pain and the _helplessness_ pushing his mind deeper into itself.

"Good choice," Kylo says. "After all, we need to balance you out. You might not be a Jedi, but…" He moves to the right, and starts etching in the second symbol. Neither one of them really stands for the Knights, though. Maybe he needs to think about that, later. 

His other hand goes to Poe's hip, mostly to steady his efforts instead of to keep his pilot from moving. 

Poe can't speak at that. He can barely breathe. He dreamed of being a Jedi his whole life. Even after he grew up, after his childhood was long since left behind, some part of him still thrilled at the idea, at the idle fantasies.

But he doesn't anymore. He still wishes he had the Force, still wishes he could do even a fraction of the amazing things that Kylo can do, but the shining heroes of his boyhood games and his adult daydreams have long since vanished, and he wonders what that means.

Well. Right now… it doesn't matter either way. Poe closes his eyes once more, and loses himself in the pain.

They look right, like this, Kylo thinks. Both of them. Maybe he'll include both in his new temple, or maybe he'll merge them together. It's worth thinking about, and he bends, lips to Poe's ear. "Are you prepared for it to mark?" he asks. 

Because he could forge it, here and now. On the man who brought him to this place, this Grey centre of the universe. But only if he wants it. 

" _Yes_ ," Poe answers, without hesitating. He knows what he's asking for. Knows the pain will be intense. Knows he'll carry the reminder of it forever.

Knows what he meant when he said _anything_.

"Brace yourself," Kylo says. He walks to the medkit they keep on the ship, grabbing the sterilising wipes and cleaning the blade. If it's going to break the skin, then it needs to be as safe as he can make it. You don't just rely on Bacta after the event if you can start as you mean to go on.

Next he cleans over Poe's back, making sure as he swipes it that the slow pulsing inside of him continues. He can't break his attention span too much, but that's almost like humming under his breath. Once he's cleaned him, he puts the blade into place.

A breath. Another. A third. And then a circle drawn across the expanse of Poe's back, the top ending just below his neck and cutting just deep enough to draw a well of blood to the surface. 

Held as he is, Poe can't move even a little, which is likely for the best because the shock as that blade first bites in is more than his mind can process. His breath doesn't so much catch as just _stop_ for a long moment before he cries out, low and pained, mixed with a heavy dose of confused bliss.

" _Please_ ," he chokes out, though he isn't fully aware of what he's saying. Or of anything, if truth be told, other than the sensation.

"Stay with me," Kylo intones, his voice sonorous and delphic. "Focus on the sensation. Feel the pain leaving you with every thud of your heart. Feel the tension bleeding out."

His thumb strokes slow, soft circles at Poe's hip, giving him a counterpoint to the agony. And then – when he's convinced Poe's deep enough, when he can feel his mind going further – he starts the painstaking work of weaving the two emblems together: Sith, on the left; Jedi, on the right. He makes the lines swoop to meet, so they merge seamlessly into one unit. 

It looks beautiful, under all the red. It will be beautiful. It already is. 

Poe's mind slips completely under somewhere in the middle. He isn't conscious of it happening, but he is vaguely aware that the pain is blending into the background… or, at least, that it is blending into something else. Everything is just different types of sensation, in the end, and all of it a moebius strip that wraps around and folds back on itself.

He can't speak. Words don't exist in the place where he is. He tries to murmur something but he doesn't even know what it is, and it certainly doesn't sound like anything resembling actual coherence.

But his body is no longer tense, and even without the Force to hold him in place, he would be still, and pliant.

Kylo finishes up, and puts the blade to one side. He can feel Poe's physical and emotional reaction as much as he can feel the Force itself. When he's so deep into himself, he radiates out like trying to stare down a star from close up. It's… calming. Invigorating. Both, at once. Kylo would almost envy him, almost, but he can feel enough through their Bond that it's an incredible sensation for him, too.

He _basks_ in the waves of satisfaction, but crests them like the spray on the surface, instead of carried underneath like the loose rocks below the water. And he knows – all the way to his core – that he's done this. Poe's offered his surrender, and Kylo – in return – has given him this. He feels… all-powerful. Giving. Wise. Loved. Trusted.

A pain that's wanted, instead of one for ill means. 

"I'm going to clean you up, now," he says, his voice still deep, but caring. "Are you ready?" 

Poe manages a little nod, and a murmur. It takes more effort than you might think, but it's an effort he recognises as being necessary. Some part of him wants to speak, wants to say all the things in his head, but he's so far down that even being able to speak wouldn't mean any of it actually made sense.

It doesn't, right now. Even to him. Except that it also does.

The worst of the mess is wiped from his shoulders with a swab that holds a coagulating agent, making the open wound start to heal and forming a gel-like scab over the parted skin. It glistens brightly in the ship's artificial light, and will serve instead of a bandage to allow Poe to move. After all, Kylo's going to need him functional, pretty soon. 

Which means he's going to have to deal with the other problem, too. There's a finite amount of time available, considering they're still en-route to the Sith world. And he needs Poe up and able to think and act, pretty quickly. 

With care, Kylo loosens the Force bonds holding Poe in place, and scoops him into his arms. He walks the short distance to the bed, and sits with him across his thighs, first. 

"Do you think you can use your mouth, my dear pilot?" he asks, still holding onto him, letting him sprawl where he lies. "Or do you need me to take over completely?" 

Poe doesn't stand a chance of answering. He tries to _think_ an answer, so that Kylo can pick up on it, but the inside of his head is almost as incoherent as the outside, and no words will come. The only thing that's obvious is that he isn't going to be able to do anything active for a while, given the way he just falls where he's laid, not even trying to move. Not at all sure he can.

But he wants. It's a want that goes way beyond words, that radiates off him even though he can't give it voice. He wants to make Kylo happy. He wants _to give him everything_.

It's likely less taxing on him than fucking him, Kylo thinks. Especially when he's got just-closed wounds over the whole surface of his back, marking him more deeply than any tattoo would. With care, he moves Poe and various pillows, supporting his chest and leaving his head in Kylo's lap. He fusses at the back of his neck, light, feather touches to his uncut skin, just above the mark. 

"Go as slow as you need," he tells him, and then pulls the bottle of lube towards himself. The Force tendrils are gone, and Poe's still slightly open, but lubed fingers are more personal, more intimate. He slicks two up, and toys at Poe's entrance for as long as he dares before he slips the middle finger all the way inside. 

It's a long moment before Poe manages to move. His body feels like it's made of lead, and even something as simple as _seeing_ is a challenge. But he knows what Kylo wants, and that's enough to push him to act, to help him find a way to somehow lift his head and shoulders up so that he can try to get Kylo's pants undone again.

That isn't easy either. Even with the advantage of being able to use a hand this time. He gets the better of the fastenings after a moment, working Kylo's cock free and sinking his lips down over it at once, as deep as he can.

Kylo smiles, hand moving to guide him up and down, enjoying the warm, welcoming darkness that engulfs his shaft. "I love you, Poe. I want you to know that. I love you, with all I am."

He uses that finger very languidly inside him, pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in to the palm. A second finger inside, and he rolls them around, stroking his walls and seeking out his prostate to apply gradual pressure. "Going to make you come, and when you do I'll hold you, hold you until we get there. And you'll feel better, because you'll feel my fingers still as if they're in you. Remember how good you feel when you're in my arms." 

The feeling deep inside makes Poe whimper in pleasure, his hips shaking at the sensation, and he goes still for a moment, trying to ride out the feeling. But as soon as he can, he returns to what he's doing, lips sinking as low as possible, holding Kylo's cock deep until he has no choice but to pull back.

Though he only ever pauses long enough to breathe. No matter how badly he wants to curl up in a ball, he will not stop until he's given Kylo everything. Everything that's his.

Kylo very much wants to go hard and fast, but he also needs to make sure he takes care of his pilot, now. He's in a sensitive and fragile place, and he wants to coast him through and up, rather than shatter him. Those times can wait until they're home, until there's no 'soon' on the horizon. Maybe this was even too much, but he is pretty sure it was needed, today.

Deeper in, three fingers, wanting his lover to finish first. He strokes hard against him, a rough and open-hearted sensation pushed through the Bond. "When you're ready, you come," he murmurs. "Don't hold back. Don't ask. Just give in to it." 

If he could reach, he'd wrap his hand around him, but it's a bit difficult right now. Instead, he grabs his own balls, scrunching them roughly, making his leg jiggle with it. 

It doesn't take much more to push Poe right to the edge. He's _been_ on the edge for what seems like a long time, so all that's needed is a little physical impetus to bring him the last few steps of the way. And when Kylo gives blanket permission, it trips the last switches even faster than Poe might have expected – were he coherent enough to consider it.

His hips shake again as another tremor runs through him, and he holds position halfway along Kylo's cock, letting out a sudden, desperate moan as the last wall comes down, tripping him over the edge and leaving him coming under Kylo's fingers. The feeling is sharp, and white-hot; a sudden nova rather than slow burn, thundering through him and seeming to blaze along the fresh marks on his back, before smashing like a single wave onto a shoreline and subsiding, leaving him shaking just slightly through the aftershocks.

And then, as soon as he can, he goes back to what he's doing, resuming his attentions to Kylo. Wanting only to give him just as much pleasure in return.

The Sith grabs Poe's head and takes over, his other hand curling around his lower shaft and kneading as he makes Poe's mouth work him like he needs it. He can feel the aftershocks of his pilot's climax, and he lets those wash through him.

There's no need to go slow. Every need not to. He holds Poe down for the first spurts, then pulls him up just enough that he doesn't gag and choke, keeping the most of the mess inside of his mouth and then lifting him to drop into his lap.

And stroke at his lips, his face, his hair. "Thank you, my love. Thank you." 

When it's all over, when Poe has managed to swallow, to breathe, he just falls where he is, half-curled against Kylo. Not even fully aware of where 'here' _is_. All he can process is the slowly fading sensations, the burning pain across his back – dulled, now, but still very much there – and the awareness of Kylo's hands on him.

He can't speak. He manages a little murmur, and then curls in more, wanting Kylo to hold him. And never let him go.

"You can relax. We have time, yet," Kylo says, stroking everywhere that isn't hurt. He's going to need to put Bacta on those wounds properly, to dress them before they get infected, or the lines mar, but he needs to hold him, first.

Needs to keep touching him, murmuring soft words and reassurances. "It's okay, love. I've got you. You're safe. I've got you, you're here, with me." 

He knows Poe will stay like this for some time, so he hastily checks his chrono. He needs to start stirring in about fifteen minutes, but that's an eternity to someone in hyperspace – twice. 

Poe is so far down that he can't remember what the surface looks like; so far out that he passed the edge of the universe long ago. He's completely still, save for his gradually slowing breath, and a slight, somewhat uncoordinated move with one hand in an attempt to hold onto Kylo.

'I love you too,' he tries to say, but it's still just an incoherent little series of sounds. He certainly seems happy, though.

And he is. Everything is quiet. Everything has receded. The world is Kylo, and the rest is a distant dream.

For a while, Kylo just holds him. Holds him, and hums little love-letters and songs to him. When Poe looks like he's utterly relaxed, Kylo gets up. He grabs the medikit that the ship comes with as standard, and starts by cleaning up his back. He's very careful not to aggravate the thin cuts, and he gently lays a Bacta second-skin over the cuts.

"It's going to look impressive," he tells him, not minding if he's capable of responding or not. 

Even after having a little time to come down, or up, or back, or whichever is the best approximation of where he's been, Poe still has to struggle for anything resembling words.

"Will..?" he starts out, then pauses, and takes slightly more of a mental run-up. "Will it stay?"

Coherence is still a very real challenge. But he is at least now at the point where he can try.

"Unless we put something on it to prevent it, yes." Kylo reaches for his hand, squeezing it. "You can make your mind up at any point. Either way." 

For a moment, Poe just smiles. He still looks blissed out of his head. "What's it like?" he asks. He was sort of aware of it at the time, but he can't remember much now.

"Want me to take a picture?" Kylo asks, stroking Poe's hip, away from the worst of the injury, where it won't hurt. "Because from where I'm sitting… it looks. It looks wonderful, Poe."

It's questionable whether Poe could even process the pain yet, if there was any. Right now, what he can feel is not so much pain but… _heat_. He nods a few times, still not really lifting his head. "Yes. Please. I… want to see."

Kylo nods, and goes to get a holo-recorder. He makes as much of a complete picture as he can, then flicks the display on, and holds it in front of Poe. "There…"

And Poe's mind sorts of… shorts-out, for a long moment. He stares, eyes following the lines on the image, shivering (in a very good way) as he remembers their creation. "It's… I… I never thought… It's beautiful."

And all of the good kinds of terrifying.

"You can always have it removed at any point," Kylo insists. "It's not – you don't have to keep it. I just…" Wanted to make you feel better, he thinks. Wanted to ground you. 

Poe immediately reaches to grab Kylo's hand, holding on. "I'm yours," he says, softly. Still – and again – so very fervent. "I want to be yours. I want to carry the proof."

"I know, but this…" The Force. It isn't his battle, is it? Or is it, now? The first Sith without the Force. He bends, kissing at Poe's ear. "If it's what you want, I can't deny you anything."

"You can deny me everything," Poe murmurs, tightening his hold on Kylo's hand. "But… please don't. Not this time."

Even if it will be quite an experience to explain to anyone who sees. It doesn't matter.

"You know any denial would just be a delay, instead," Kylo chuckles, and ruffles his hair affectionately. "You have me as whipped as I have you." 

"Never," Poe insists. "I am yours. All yours." And he means it, of course he means it. Though there's still a little grin on his face when he speaks.

"Oh, don't lie, you know you've got me wrapped around your little finger," Kylo chides, but his expression is entirely fond and warm. "Would you like to sit on my lap until we have to get you dressed again?" 

" _Please_ ," is Poe's immediate answer. "Right now… all I want is for you to hold me." The moving part might be more tricky, though, but probably doable by this point.

"Hold on…" Kylo moves quickly, surely. It helps that he can use the Force to steady him, pulling Poe up to lean against his chest. An arm around his waist from the front, the other cradling the back of his head, tucking him in.

"Better?"

As he settles into place, Poe sighs in contentment, sliding his arms around Kylo and holding on. This is everything. This is right. This is where he's meant to be – as much as on his knees before the man – and in this moment, removed from all the pressures of the world, he's happier than he knows how to put into words.

"Yes," he whispers. "Yes. I love you."

"I love you, too. More than I have words for." More than words exist to try to say so, he thinks. Yes. More than any language the galaxy knows. Kylo kisses a little circle on Poe's collarbone, gently pulsing happiness along the Bond. Just reaffirming their connection, just keeping him in this warm, safe space. 

Poe could stay like this forever. He knows they don't have forever: knows that soon the world will come calling again and they'll have to dive back into it. But right now, here in this place, in this moment, everything is still and quiet and perfect. Just this. Just them.

And no power in the galaxy can take that away.


	18. The Temple Of Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salutations, readers! We return with another chapter, and it's a big one!
> 
> Before we launch into it, however, there's two things we want to cover. First off, we're going to be scaling back our update schedule to once a week for about the next month. This is simply due to the fact that Shadow Side is going to be away for just over two weeks at the start of August and we won't be able to get much written as a result. Our options were either to go on a full-blown hiatus, or to scale back in advance, so we decided on the latter to avoid leaving you all hanging! As a result, we will be going to Saturdays only until sometime in the middle of August. Naturally, we will keep you posted!
> 
> Secondly, we figured it's about time we told you about our facecasts for the other Knights of Ren, given that they're all OCs. We decided to go with reasonably well-known actors/actresses for our choices, to increase the chance of you knowing who they are, and therefore what they look like and how they speak. And so, dear readers:
> 
> Danika & Daria - [Dakota Fanning](http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0266824/)  
> Tovim - [Sam Claflin](http://www.imdb.com/name/nm3510471/)  
> Jolek - [Channing Tatum](http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1475594/)  
> Fayed - [Anthony Mackie](http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1107001/)  
> Meryth - [Olivia Munn](http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1601397/)
> 
> And now, with all that said, we take you to our chapter. Enjoy! :-)

Midwanjontû.

The planet that – hopefully – once bore this name hangs beneath the shuttle belonging to the Knights of Ren, as the ship drops out of hyperspace. It's a distant, desert world, deep inside the Unknown Regions, sliding through space in the company of a bright, yellow star.

They don't know what the star is – or was – called. But if this world is indeed Midwanjontû, then it is precisely what they are searching for.

The means to achieve power.

"There it is," Daria says. She sounds almost reverent. "We made it."

"It's…" Beautiful is an understatement, Danika thinks, as she stares at it. There's a distant, slumbering energy to it. It's strange, because Chikara had resonated so strongly, but that planet had been filled with lesser crystals. This world only has the one.

Only Tovim's in the cockpit with them, flying the ship. He's by far the most competent of the group, at least when it comes to piloting.

"It looks borderline uninhabitable. Weird people, the Sith, if they picked places like this deliberately."

"Probably to deter the weak willed," Danika muses.

"And I believe it appealed to their… aesthetic," Daria adds. From her voice, she's caught between scorn and jealousy. "Besides, if you want to hide something, best to put it somewhere no one lives."

"True. But I'm not going to apply for real estate, here, when we work out where we're settling," Tovim replies. "Speaking of…?"

"No. We don't have a homeworld planned, for the last time, Tovim. And if we did, it would not have a casino strip." Danika wonders, not for the first time, if there's a real Force skill that could reduce Tovim to a mute.

"Fine, fine…"

Their shuttle dips down towards the surface of the planet. The world below is desolate and empty, and their scanners barely register any signs of life at all – some simple plants, but little else. There is, however, one obvious, artificial structure, relatively close to the equator, in a region dotted with wide plains and bordered by mountain ranges.

A building. A _temple_.

They land close by, in a swirl of sand and dust, coming to a halt on the rough ground.

"It doesn't feel like I expected," Daria muses – mostly to her sister – as the ship starts to power down. "There's a definite energy to it, but… not like Chikara."

"Could it be shielded? So external influences – Jedi – couldn't find it?" the elder twin suggests.

Because it doesn't at all feel right. The planet itself is grim and unwelcoming, but maybe it's the anti-climax feeling, that 'this can't possibly be real' feeling. This could answer all of their problems in one fell swoop.

"It would certainly make sense," Daria concurs. "And it would explain why the Eye has gone undiscovered for so long."

She gestures in the direction of the ship's rear hatch, flickers of excitement flaring through the Force as she does. "Shall we?"

"Call the others," Danika says. "It's time we went crystal hunting." 

***

The ship has landed relatively close to the large structure, though the small courtyard area prevented Tovim from landing immediately outside the main building, forcing them instead to put down outside the main walls. The six remaining Knights of Ren walk in a roughly level line, with Danika possibly a few inches ahead of everyone.

It's eerie. The atmosphere is thin, but breathable, and the lack of any real ecosystem means the most noises come from footfalls or breathing, over the top of the light breeze. Up and through the archway, it opens up into a wide, circular courtyard.

The walls are black, though whether that's age or material is hard to tell. They glint, slightly, in the barely-diffused light. 

"Looks like the kind of place we split up, and then get picked off by monsters," Tovim says.

"We're not splitting up." Not because Danika is afraid of monsters, but because she doesn't trust them. Also because they might all need to stay together.

"This place certainly is impressive," Daria says, staring around them as they walk. "Like nothing I've ever seen. Who knows what other secrets might be waiting for us here..?"

Danika starts to lengthen her stride, pushing them onwards. "If you see anything easily removed, or recorded, you can as we go along. But our primary focus is finding and securing the crystal." 

"I'll rip the walls up if we have to," Jolek offers.

"Hopefully it won't come to that."

Danika strides her legs quickly through a long, threatening corridor. Deeper in, and there's nothing obvious on any of the walls. When they get to the end, there's a door, which is closed. After a brief attempt at shoving, she turns to the tall man. 

Jolek nods, and reaches out with his hands. They don't touch the stone, but the door slides open with a heavy groan.

Inside there is a huge, circular bezel. It's… empty. There's nothing, but the remains of an old bipedal droid, and looking up… the roof of the place has been ripped off, filling half of the chamber with debris.

"FUCK," Danika yells. "What the fuck?"

Even with her helmet hiding her reactions, it's obvious that Daria's mind has just hit a wall. "It's gone," she says. "It's _gone_. It was here, it _must_ have been here, and now…"

Nothing. Nothing. All their hopes lay in this: in a journey leading to an empty room.

"…seems right," Meryth snipes.

Danika finds her hand on her sabre-hilt, her anger blossoming like poison in her chest, like fire, and she has to bite her lower lip to calm herself down. "Not. Now."

Tovim looks at the pile of electronics. "Maybe this droid knows something? I mean, someone had to leave it here, right?"

The droid in question is of a bipedal, humanoid design. It's tall and relatively slender, hued in a deep reddish-burgundy colour, with an angular and rather hostile-looking face. Though obviously inactive and covered with what look to be a number of blaster char-marks, the droid is otherwise intact and seems in reasonable condition, if evidently old.

It's armed, too – a blaster in one hand, a blaster rifle slung over its back, and what looks to be a pair of ageing knives strapped to its ankles.

Clearly, this one is not for dusting crops.

"It's worth a try," Daria concurs, evidently caught between curiosity and trying to calm her sister down. "If we can fix it, maybe it can tell us how it got here, and who took the Eye. And where. And _when_."

It's a crucial issue, after all. Though, judging by the state of the room, the relatively fresh edge to the debris, they're looking at decades rather than millennia. Assuming all the damage was done at once, of course.

"I volunteer," says Fayed, the most technically-minded of the group. "Jolek, if you would do the honours..?"

Jolek nods, scruffing the droid by the neck and tossing it over his shoulder, turning to head back to the ship.

"We'll make sure you're okay," Meryth says, tossing her head in a 'come, now' gesture at the third of their group.

They don't even try for subtle, do they? Although Danika is so frustrated right now that them going would actually be a mercy, and thus she doesn't do anything but grunt in acknowledgement.

When the older three Knights have headed off, Jolek carrying the broken droid, Daria turns to Danika. "What do we do now?" she asks. Her voice is level, but it's obvious she's concerned.

"…we…" She hadn't thought this far. She'd only ever thought about the crystal _being here_. And now it isn't. "We… get as much information as we can. There could be traces of who took it, that we could use. It doesn't look too long ago, but…"

Tovim leaps into the space where the crystal once was. "There's no slivers or shards. I guess whoever did it had the Force?"

Daria paces closer, looking around, though she doesn't go so far as to step up onto the dais herself. "I would say so," she replies. "This room doesn't look like it was blown apart with explosives. It looks like it was _ripped_ apart, and that would take a skilled Force-user – maybe several of them – to do it. And even with the roof off, you'd need to be able to move the crystal itself, too. Whoever did this was _powerful_."

"We'd know if Sidious did it," Danika says. "Hux would have delighted in telling us. So… Jedi?" 

"Probably, yes. Which means they might have taken it to… a Jedi planet?" The pilot drops to sit on the edge of the empty setting. 

"And if the Jedi had it… either Sidious would have seized it during the purge, or it must still be hidden somewhere," Daria reasons. "Which in turn means it could still be out there. We could still find it."

"Which means we need to find out where the Jedi had their bases." Danika rolls her eyes up to the gap in the ceiling.

"Hey, don't ask me, you two were the Jedi, remember?"

"Don't remind me," the taller twin snaps at him.

"So. Time to go back to the drawing board?"

***

" _Scion_ , this is the _Phoenix_. We're coming up on Midwanjontû. Prepare to drop out of hyperspace."

"Copy, _Phoenix_."

In a sudden burst, both ships drop to sublight, staying close together as they do – not knowing what they're going to find. Poe is back at the controls of the _Phoenix_ – presentable again, though still feeling a little strange – and he checks the scope at once, looking for signs of activity. There's a planet up ahead of them, a desolate-looking desert world, but no other ships in orbit.

"I think we found it," Poe says, softly.

"It… feels less ominous than I thought it would," Kylo admits, leaning closer to the viewscreen. "But it doesn't look like a very nice planet."

Not that it felt it, when they were there in the vision. He wonders if they'll need to take waterproofs. He sure as hell hopes not. 

"I'll second that," Poe agrees. "According to the scans, it's almost completely barren. A few plants and suchlike, but no more. Bad place to live." A headtilt. "Good place to hide."

He brings the ship in closer, still scanning the surface, searching for… "Gotcha. There's a structure near the equator. Definitely artificial. If the temple we saw is here… that must be it. And…"

Poe feels a lurch of alarm as he checks the scanner readings more carefully. "Kylo, there's a ship down there. Looks like it's landed right beside the structure."

"It… oh _fuck_. It's an Upsilon, isn't it?" Kylo closes his eyes, feeling out and… "They're here. The Knights. I can feel them, now I try. And that means they can likely feel me, too." 

Shit. Shit. Shit. "I think it's all of them, Poe." 

"Fuck," Poe echoes. "This is it, then. A confrontation has been inevitable all this time. I just… didn't expect it to happen here."

In retrospect, maybe he should have done.

"You can win this," he goes on, looking over at Kylo. "You and Rey. There may be six of them, but the two of you are worth at least three each. Maybe more. And you have the Pathfinders to back you up. And, you know, me."

"…the twins share a bond, the three are insanely devout, and… we don't know if Tovim will come to us, or not," Kylo says, his mind whirring quickly through options. 

Six against two would be hard. Even with the Pathfinders. Three against five would be easier. Especially with the Pathfinders. 

One way or another, this is happening. Poe hits the radio again. " _Scion_ , this is the _Phoenix_. We're picking up hostiles on the surface. The Knights of Ren are here. Rey… tell Finn to get the Pathfinders prepped. This could well turn into a combat situation."

"Copy that," comes Rey's reply. "I can feel them too, and Finn is already on it. We'll see you down there."

The two ships swoop lower, heading into the planet's atmosphere and down towards the mountain-bordered plains, where…

"…There it is," Poe says.

He can see it now: a large, angular structure standing in the centre of the open plains. It's huge; ruined in places and still very much intact in others, and sitting on the ground close by is a single Upsilon-class shuttle.

"They can't have already taken the Eye, they'd have left," Kylo says, thinking to himself aloud. "It has to still be there. We're not too late to stop this."

If he tells himself often enough, maybe it will feel right. "Are you okay to go ahead, or do you need to stay with the ship?"

"There's no power in the galaxy that could make me leave you to do this alone," is Poe's reply, and he means it. He's still sore from what happened earlier, his back hot with remembered – and real – pain, but his mind is barely processing it, and he knows it won't hinder him. Nothing will hinder him.

The _Phoenix_ comes in to land, with the _Scion_ dropping down close by. As soon as the essential post-flight checks are done – and leaving the ship in low-power mode so they can leave quickly, in case things turn sour – Poe turns to Kylo.

"Let's do this," he says.

"All right." Kylo does have his misgivings, but he also knows he can't hold Poe back from this: like him, he'd need to go through with it, no matter what. He just hopes this won't be like the _Decimator_.

It can't be. There's no Snoke in his head. There's no Snoke at all.

Off the ship, and into the arid air. 

The others stand beside the _Scion_ , waiting for Kylo and Poe to join them.

"Okay. How do you want to play this?" Finn asks Kylo.

It's still weird, even though he was Master of the Knights, to have a Sergeant ask him for guidance. "I was thinking Rey and I take point, with you and Poe flanking us, and then you arrange your troops as you see fit?"

Finn nods, then turns and issues a quick set of commands. "Ready."

Poe gives Finn an encouraging smile – well-aware that this is the man's first active command mission and that none of them were quite prepared for it ending up so serious. Then he draws his weapon and moves into position, and… when even _was_ his own last ground engagement? Akiva?

Maybe he _should_ have brought the X-Wing.

None of it shows, though. "Ready," he echoes.

Rey, meanwhile, turns to Kylo. "We can do this," she says, half for his benefit and half for her own. "We are the Knights of Eigengrau. I know we can do this."

"Remember, if we need to shoot – or hit – to kill… do it. They won't hesitate. Not for a moment." Kylo knows, because he trained this into them. Drilled it, extensively. Kill. Survive. Nothing was more important.

As they get closer, Kylo feels the lack of crystal energy unsettling in the extreme. He was sure they'd feel it. 

As they step into the courtyard, though, there is a significant lack of blood. That part he can live with. "They redecorated," he says, drolly.

"…from… what?" Finn asks, baffled.

"Don't ask." 

"This is the same temple Kylo and I saw in our vision on Chikara," Poe elaborates. "The one that was drenched in blood. So… this is better."

Dark and ominous all the same, but not _drenched in blood_.

"Can you sense it?" Rey asks Kylo, looking a little surprised. "The crystal. I thought we'd be able to feel it when we got close, and I… can't."

"No. I'm… they're still on the planet, so it's not like they can have taken it, unless they came back, and I don't know why they would." Plus, Kylo thinks, wouldn't he have found out by now?

"Could they block you from feeling it?" Finn asks.

Kylo thinks about it for a moment. "…possibly… but Tovim is the most skilled at that, and I don't think the six of them can work close enough together to that end." 

"Which… leaves us with the other possibility," Poe says. "That it isn't here."

And that would also be bad. Very, very bad. Maybe not quite as bad as the Knights of Ren having already taken it, but close.

He gestures to the passageway leading out ahead of them. "If our vision was accurate, we need to go that way. The central chamber is at the far end."

"Everyone be on alert. We don't know where they are. We can assume Tovim can sense us, if no one else." Although, if they're lucky, Tovim won't mention it. It would be like him to play things up to the last minute, to have his options open. Kylo, for once, is grateful for that.

"Okay, I think we need to set some people up on our six," Finn says. "Hold this corridor so we don't get hit from behind, or trapped. And--"

Kylo raises a hand. "We've got incoming."

Instinct makes Poe want to step in closer, though he manages to stand his ground. He lifts his weapon a little higher, not quite pointing it at the door, but enough that it will take only a slight movement to do so.

His heart is racing more than he might have expected. He knows who the Knights of Ren are. He knows what they represent.

A deep breath, and Poe glances sideways at Kylo. " _I've got your back_ ," he says, through their bond. Not wanting to break the moment, but needing Kylo to know.

"Draw," Kylo says, in case anyone hasn't yet done so. He has his sabre in his hand, thumb near the ignition switch. 

"…is that the dulcet tones of our former leader?" Tovim's voice precedes him, and then he – and two women – all masked and dressed in black enter the courtyard.

"You," Danika growls. Her sabre kicks into red light at once. "I should have known."

"You're outnumbered, Danika. Why don't you surrender?"

"Why don't you eat Bantha dung?" she snaps back at him.

Poe levels his blaster straight at Danika's head. He could do it. Kylo might have been able to stop a blaster-bolt without hesitation, but that doesn't mean they all can. But… no. No. He has to hold off. Kylo wants to save them, if possible, and Poe… wants that too.

Right?

"You're outnumbered," he says, instead. "Either you stand down, or this ends badly for you."

"How about _you_ stand down, before your traitor-boyfriend gets to watch you die?" Daria throws back, immediately coming to her sister's defence, lightsabre bared and blazing.

Tovim shrugs. "Guess I'm joining the party." His own blade sputters out, and he looks over at the superior numbers on the other side, his expression calculating.

"It's not too late, we can still help you. You don't need to deny your feelings, you can have _both_." Kylo isn't sure he'll get through, but he has to **try**. "It doesn't have to be like we thought it did."

"And when you change your mind again? What then?" Danika shakes her head. "You might have brought soldiers, but this is _not_ about mundanes."

"Funny, a mundane can still shoot you," Finn says. "And two of them are Sith."

"Sith?" Danika snorts. "You're being ridiculous." 

"He's more right than you could possibly understand," Rey interjects, and though she is obviously trying to defend Finn, her tone – and her argument – is sincere. "We are the Knights of Eigengrau. And we are the future – a future you can be a part of, if you put down your weapons and listen to us."

"You're following the _traitor_ ," Daria throws back. "Why would we ever listen to _him_?"

"Because we all make mistakes!" Kylo answers, his voice breaking. "Because I thought I was protecting you, and I was wrong. Because we can make this galaxy safe for people to live, and love, and use the Force."

"You know, I'm pretty sure I can do that already." Danika doesn't appreciate his emotional appeal. She's heard them before. They lose impact, when the proclaimer changes his opinion so often. 

"Then: because what you're doing is _wrong_." Which Kylo thinks maybe he should have said sooner. "It's wrong, and evil. Come back with us. We can work on this."

"How could we ever trust you again?" Daria demands, and her voice is breaking too, though it's obscured somewhat by her mask. "You told us you'd make us strong, make us invincible. You said no one would ever hurt us again, that those who opposed us would be swept aside and turned to nothing. And then you ran straight back to them!"

"It was all because of Snoke," Poe cuts in, his voice level, but razor-sharp. "What happened to you, what happened to Kylo… it was all Snoke's doing. He was the source of the pain. Of the lies. He is the one who betrayed you. Kylo was just the first to break free… and it's a freedom you can still be part of."

"We _are_ free. We're free right now. You just want to control us," Danika snarls. "I'm in control now. And the Knights all follow me." 

"…well. Some of them."

Danika turns, but Tovim's already inched his way out of reach, and his sabre is lifted defensively. 

"You… you really want to join them?" The betrayal rings clear in her voice, and the worst part is she's not even surprised. "As if they'd trust you."

"No less than you do, Danika." Tovim shrugs. "I think I'm backing the winning side."

"You're both worthless, back-stabbing, heel-turning traitors!" The air crackles, and around Danika static pulls at everything.

Poe does _not_ look happy at Tovim's apparent side-switching – this would be because he isn't – but the reality of it is infinitely more complex. They want the Knights of Ren to surrender and hear Kylo out, so Tovim switching sides technically constitutes a _good_ thing, only the act of it happening has – unsurprisingly – tipped Danika over the edge, thereby reducing the chance of getting her – and likely the others – to see reason.

In other words, you can never have what you want. Or, not all of it, all at once.

And then there's the other thing. Blaster still pointed at Danika's head, Poe says, "Call my husband a traitor again, and you'll see just how _Sithly_ I can be."

"Poe," Kylo hisses at him, head turning towards him. "We need to help them."

"I don't need your fucking help, I need you all to **die** ," Danika yells, and this is too much. She flares out, a hand lifted to try knocking Poe's blaster away as she runs in with her sabre swinging down.

Which Kylo steps in to catch on his own, pushing Poe behind him in the process as he crashes the red beam down on the younger one. 

The instant Kylo and Danika lock blades, Daria launches in to help, her own red blade lancing through the air. But she gets barely more than a blow in before Rey leaps in too, trying to push Daria back and away from Kylo, to keep him from being overwhelmed. It works in that respect, but it does mean that the two women are now locked in a battle of their own, red clashing on blue, filling the air with harsh ringing and the tang of ozone.

For a moment, all Poe can do is watch in horror, but then the need to act gets the better of him and he trains his blaster on Danika again, firing. Aiming to incapacitate, not kill, but… honestly, content with the latter, if that's what it takes. But, the instant he fires, Daria pushes Rey back and holds up a hand, sending the bolts skittering off at an angle, one impacting on the far wall and another rocketing into the sky.

"Poe, _stop_ ," Kylo barks, pushing with the Force to knock the pilot's blaster-hand away.

"Nobody fire! We don't want to hit our guys!" Finn's voice rings over the snarl of sabre-contact, sure and unarguable.

"I'll take care of your pilot," Tovim offers, and immediately goes to grab for Poe's sidearm.

"Don't you dare hurt him." No one hurts Poe. Least of all people who just joined their side. Kylo can't really afford to look back, though, because the shorter Knight is on him, and it takes almost all of his attention to block and catch her blows, struggling not to injure her as he tries to subdue her.

Danika, meanwhile, is all but spitting blood. "I'll rip you all limb from limb, and then batter your bodies with your severed arms!" 

The instant Tovim moves near him, Poe loses it completely. He's not quite sure how he stops himself outright _firing_ at the turncoat Knight, but (luckily?) he manages not to, and instead goes for him bodily, trying to bowl them both to the ground, a swarm of fury.

He doesn't even feel guilty about it. Not in the moment. Later, he might, but now… now all his rage has spiked again, and – coupled with the fact that he can't actually participate in a lightsabre duel – this is the only outlet he has.

"Hey, easy now, I'm on your side, remember?" Tovim tries to pin Poe's arms to his sides, his own sabre turned off so he doesn't accidentally maim the man. He fights dirty, using the Force to assist him in subduing Poe.

"Then get the _fuck_ off me," Poe throws back, still trying to fight the man with everything he's got. Knowing – from what Kylo has said – that Tovim is not the strongest when it comes to the telekinetic side.

Hoping his opponent doesn't thereby resort to the _mental_ side.

"Either you're with us, or you're against us. And if you're with us, _back the fuck off_ and let me get at that _leader_ of yours."

"Your husband told you to stop, isn't he in charge?" Tovim asks, still using the very few inches he has on him to keep his limbs from flailing too much. "We outnumber them. We can take them _prisoner_." 

But Poe is having none of it. "Get. The fuck. _Off_ ," he hisses.

Over to the side, the furious lightsabre battle is still in full-swing. Rey is facing down Daria with finesse, the benefits of her training now impossible to miss in every movement, every step. In the way the very air around her seems to warp a little at her presence, holding her opponent back, and lifting her own attacks at the same time.

"You'll not be taking any prisoners," Danika insists, between furiously fast swirls and strikes. She's much shorter than her opponent, and she's also not aiming to incapacitate, but to kill. Venom makes her blows vicious, and she uses the room to best advantage, pushing and pulling the combat, always keeping Kylo between her and the Pathfinders.

Kylo doesn't relent, but it's clear he's also holding back his killing blows. "Danika, what you're doing is _wrong_. What they did to **us** was wrong! But we can make it right."

"You just didn't have the strength to do what was needed. I do!"

Kylo throws out a blast of Force, staggering her further from the crowd. "I have the strength. The real strength comes from both Light _and_ Dark."

Which is when she tries to throw Lightning at him. It's unco-ordinated and messy, and she screams in frustration when her jagged bolts meet a controlled response.

"You're a traitor! A weak-minded traitor! You run, and you never fight. You're not even fighting me properly, now!"

"Because I don't want to kill you, you idiot!"

" _Why not_?"

He doesn't get a chance to answer, though, because Finn yells: "Incoming! Incoming at our six! Everyone open fire!"

The Pathfinders start to release volleys of blue blaster bolts, which Force pushes and sabres deflect into pandemonium. 

Still struggling with Tovim, Poe turns in time to see the three _other_ Knights of Ren come charging into the fray, and his stomach lurches a little at the sight. _Should have thought that would happen_. Two on two is plausible. Two on _five_ less so. The only saving grace in this is the Pathfinders, though Poe knows there's every risk some of them are going to die in this chaos.

And then… then he feels a strange thrumming in the air: definitely the Force, but in a way he hasn't experienced before. Looking off to the side, he can see Rey, still fighting with Daria, but much slower now. At first glance, it seems as though she's tiring, but then he catches the concentration on her face, and he's sure it's something else.

He's obviously not the only one picking up on it. " _What are you doing_?" Daria demands, in between swings.

"Something you could learn… if only you'd listen," Rey answers. Her voice is shaking a little, but she isn't losing her nerve, or her control. "Stand down. Let us help. Let us show you what you can become."

Daria swings at her again. " _Never_!"

Kylo isn't wholly sure what Rey is up to, but he trusts her implicitly. He's somewhat distracted by the other twin, and he doesn't even know how the hell they get out of this in one piece. Yes, they have the Pathfinders, but there's going to be blood spilt on both sides before long.

"We can still make this right." He's arguing, but he knows – on some level – that it's not working. Danika sprints a foot up the wall, getting height to come crashing down on him, and he manages to push her back, but it's getting harder to keep this safe. Or, as safe as any sabre-fight can be. 

"Daria, get your sister and _run_ ," Jolek shouts over their heads. 

From the way she immediately moves, Daria has already been contemplating attempting just that. She shoves at Rey as hard as she can and – given that Rey is still concentrating on whatever she's doing – it's enough to break them apart, and give Daria space to dart over and pull her sister back.

"We have to _go_!" she implores. "Dani, _please_ , we can't win this!"

"I am _not_ letting _him_ win!" Danika hisses, even as she's dragged bodily away. 

Kylo advances, but keeps some distance between them. "Surrender. Before I have to kill you. Asha, Ava, _please_." He hates using their old names, but he needs to do something. Something to remind them of who they used to be, even though he, himself, let go of his own.

He's desperate, and he realises – now – why people used 'Ben' when they spoke to him. Even though he didn't feel he _was_ Ben, not any more. He still remembered being him, though. Ben… didn't die, but he was a smaller part of something much, much more complicated. Is. Is a part. But not the whole.

Danika flinches at the old name, and it's enough for Daria to tug her into the corridor. Enough for them to get the distance needed for Jolek to bring the corridor's entrance crumbling down between them. Enough to cut them off from the battle wholly.

She stares at the rubble, then turns to her sister. Her face is masked, but she feels no blood in her head at all. "We need to get out of here." 

"The roof of the crystal chamber was ripped off," Daria replies, her own voice hollow with shock. "We can get out there, and fight our way back to the ship, and… and hope the others make it out too."

"We don't even have a pilot, now," Danika mutters. She storms the short distance back to the crystal chamber, her red blade casting dancing unshadows on the wall. "That little womprat…"

"Meryth can fly just fine," Daria insists. Which is true. She may not be quite as good as Tovim, but she's easily the next best of all of them. _The_ best, now that…

"We'll get revenge," she adds. "Tovim will pay for what he did. Just like Kylo will."

They reach the crystal chamber, which is still as empty and rubble-strewn as before: devoid of answers, but with its roof ripped clean off, leaving a slope of debris that they should be able to climb up.

Off go the sabres.

"You should have let me kill him," Danika says, not looking at her sister as she starts the scramble up the debris. At times, she has to use the Force to augment her leaps and grabs, her short frame making light work of the uneven surface. 

It's helping, a little, in giving her something physical to throw herself in to, but it's… "You should have let me, Dar. He needs to die for what he did to us, and you pulled me away." 

"He would have killed you first." Daria's voice is quiet. "I'm sorry, Dani, but… he's stronger. And with that _apprentice_ of his doing… whatever the hell she was doing… we weren't going to win. And I _hate_ that as much as you, but… if you die, the Knights of Ren will fall apart. You were strong enough to hold us together after Kylo left, but without you, and with Tovim having abandoned us too… all that would remain would be me and the other three. And they… they wouldn't have any use for me."

Her voice goes even softer. "And besides… I couldn't live without you."

Danika pauses. She hadn't thought about that. If she did… if she did die, now, without Tovim… the other three would either kill Daria, or abandon her. And if nothing else, she's sworn her life to protecting her twin. It's the reason for everything, really. She wouldn't have fought so hard to be Master of the Knights if it hadn't been for…

"I'm sorry," she says, looking down at her hands on the rubble. "I was… I was… I'm just so **angry** with him." 

"I know," Daria replies, reaching over to her. "And I'm not disputing that he needs to die. Not one bit. I just… we need this to end with us still together. And alive. And that means we have to act tactically, even though it hurts."

"I thought we'd find the crystal. I thought… this was how we won." She'd been so excited, and the disappointment had been such a drastic mood swing that now… now she feels… Danika puts her hand over Daria's.

A deep breath. "I need to find it. I need to make this right. We need to stop him getting any more Jedi." 

"Agreed," Daria says. "We may not have the crystal, but neither does he. All he's gained from this is Tovim, and quite frankly he's welcome to the man. I never could stand him, and from the looks of things Kylo's pilot-boyfriend feels the same way. Tovim will just sow discord between them, even if he _is_ on their side now. And _we_ still have Jolek, Meryth and Fayed, all of whom are better, and – for now – we have the First Order too. This isn't over, Dani. It's a setback, but it isn't over."

As they reach the top, there's the low hum of an engine. It sounds like an Upsilon, but Danika knows the traitor stole at least one of them. She pulls her sabre out, even though against the cannon aboard it would be almost useless. Just in case. Just in case it's…

"Get your asses onboard," Jolek shouts, as the ship turns and shows its boarding ramp to them. He stands near the bottom, holding onto a strap for security as he holds his other arm out to help them aboard. 

"We need to get out of this system before they catch up." 

Daria lets Danika go first, then scrambles up after her. As soon as they're in, Fayed – further in – hits the button to close the hatch, and it slams shut with a resounding thunk.

"Tell Meryth to punch it!" Daria calls out, dropping back against the deckplates.

They may not have what they came for, but they're away.

This is far from over.


	19. The Blink Of An Eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, all! We're back with our next chapter, in which both Danika and Daria, and Kylo and Poe, deal with their respective unexpected passengers on the journey home.
> 
> We're super-psyched to share this one with you, and to introduce you to someone who will either be familiar, or who you really, really need to meet... ;-)

As the corridor collapses, Kylo leaps backwards – the movement beyond what any non-Force-sensitive could manage – landing by where Tovim and Poe are tangling together. The rock fall is significant, and though he could remove it, he also needs to pay attention with three other Knights in the room. 

Which. Now he needs to get over to them. "Make way," he yells, trying to remember why he doesn't just use the Force to fling everyone to the sides. 

As he gets closer, he sees the three of them are backing towards the entrance. No doubt they're about to escape, too. Or try to. "Don't you dare!"

"Stop them!" Poe yells, trying to kick Tovim off him, desperately wanting to go after Kylo.

Rey, unhindered but obviously affected by whatever she's been doing, tries to hurry through the Pathfinders as well, soldiers moving aside to let her through, lightsabre still blazing at her side.

Jolek lifts one hand, and the passage they came through starts to shake.

Kylo realises and shrieks in annoyance, just as Finn orders the closest troops to pull back. The three Knights disappear into the passage, just as it crumbles between them, hemming the Pathfinders, and Sith, inside the courtyard.

"No! Fuck! Rey, help me…" Kylo lifts his hand to pull at the rubble, but as he works he realises they're going to struggle to catch up to them in time. 

Tovim finally lets go of Poe. "Sorry, buddy." 

Without a fraction of hesitation – or thought for the fact that the man might retaliate – Poe punches Tovim squarely in the chest and stalks off at once, heading over to Kylo. And _fuck_ , but he feels better after that. It might be a small mercy, but it helps.

Tovim whuffs over in discomfort, but mutters an unhappy: "Fair." 

Rey, meanwhile, steps up to Kylo's side and starts helping him move the rubble, both of them pulling sharply with the Force to tug pieces of fallen stone aside. But within moments, there's a roar of engines, and it's clear the three Knights have made it to their ship.

"They're already in the air," Rey says. "We need to go after the other two."

This is not going well. Kylo nods, and hurtles back towards the first collapsed corridor. He flings at the rocks as hard and fast as he can, sending them skidding further in, and… "Rey, hold up the ceiling. It's going to give, when I get deep enough in." 

Tovim staggers after him, joining in the excavation work. They make headway fast, and then Kylo storms into the tunnel first, with the others in hot pursuit. 

By the time they get to the chamber at the far end, it's clear they're too late. Danika and Daria are nowhere to be seen, and the chamber itself is in quite a state, its roof ripped clean off – obviously explaining how the other two got out – and the central dais empty.

It's been pretty clear from the start, but now they know it for sure.

The Eye of Chikara is gone. And, judging by the rubble, it's been gone for a long time.

"…I'm sending this day back," Poe mutters.

"Maybe the whole week," Kylo agrees. 

All of this… for nothing. The Eye is gone, and the five remaining Knights are gone, and the only good things to be said for today are that nobody died, and they seem to have stolen Tovim. Kylo suspects the only reason the man changed sides was because he saw how outnumbered they were, but still.

"Was it gone when you arrived?"

"Yeah. Pretty much like this, except Jolek took a droid back to the shuttle," Tovim replies.

"…and… that's it?"

"We were leaving when you arrived." 

"So your former friends don't know where the thing is?" Poe pushes, resisting the urge to round on Tovim again.

"Yes, that's why I jumped ship…" Tovim's eyes audibly roll. "No, pilot. We know as much as you do."

Kylo winces at the 'we'. That won't help. "Well, we have to get off this planet, unless there's anything else we could get from here…"

"You want me to get my troops to clear the entrance way?" Finn asks.

"It's that or we climb up and out," Kylo replies, sounding resigned. "We can likely afford a little time to recce as we evacuate." 

"It might be wise," Rey concurs. "Even though the crystal is gone, we should still explore this place. There may be valuable information here – things that the Knights of Ren didn't have time to uncover."

"Agreed," Poe says. "We should take a look around, and… wait." He turns to Tovim again, but obviously not with violence on his mind this time. "You said your lot found a droid. What droid?"

***

In the rear compartment of the _Wrath_ – the shuttle belonging to the Knights of Ren – the droid from Midwanjontû lies inactive on a workbench.

The ship itself is hurtling through hyperspace, carrying them home. But it's going to be a long flight, so Fayed has started work on their unexpected passenger-slash-cargo. It is, after all, the only lead they've got, and a shaky one at that.

Meryth is off flying the ship, and Jolek is with her, leaving Danika and Daria to watch Fayed work. It's questionable whether this helps, but at least it keeps them vaguely occupied.

Sinking into introspection would be bad right now.

"You think you can fix it?" Daria asks.

"I think so. It's obsolete technology, and it looks like it's been patched up with newer stuff, so it's a bit of a mess, but…"

Danika leans forwards. She doesn't understand enough to know what is new and old, other than which bits look most charred. She _does_ understand that the damned thing seemed to be carrying more weapons than most of her Knights do. She prods at the biggest one – a very, very deadly blaster-rifle – and watches Fayed work. 

"It better have a lead," she grumbles. "If it doesn't, I'm going to go from planet to planet, killing people until we find one." 

"Surely it will know something," Daria reasons. "It wasn't there by accident. Maybe it was _also_ looking for the Eye and went into some kind of meltdown when it wasn't there… or maybe whoever took the Eye left it behind."

"Is there anything identifying on it? A serial number, or… what model even is it? I don't think I've seen one like it before." It's bipedal, like a protocol droid, but no protocol droid Danika has ever seen carried so much firepower. 

"I think it was built for combat in some form, but other than that…" Fayed's fingers slide deeper into the chassis, connecting the replacement power cell. "It looks like maybe it says…" 

There's a sudden whirr, and the droid sits immediately upright. "…all your limbs one by one and beat you to death with them!" it declares, and then stops.

This is followed by a short silence. "I am not on Midwanjontû anymore." It's a statement, not a question. The droid somehow manages to convey a mixture of hostility, confusion and curiosity all at once – and all without having mobile facial features – and looks around at the three masked Knights, clearly trying to get its bearings.

"No, you're onboard our ship," Danika says. "Who are you? And what do you remember?" 

The droid headtilts. "Deflecting remark: I remember many things. My designation is HK-47. Your turn."

"HK…" Danika doesn't recognise that designation. She'll have to research it later. "My name is Danika, and I am Master of the Knights of Ren. This is Daria, and this is Fayed. We were looking for the Eye of Chikara. Do you know of it?" 

"I know _of_ it," HK-47 replies. Whether the droid is being guarded or deliberately awkward is hard to say. "Conjecture: I have never heard of the Knights of Ren, but your attire and your lightsabres are familiar to me. Are you Sith?"

"We're not _Sith_ , but we are Darksiders," Daria answers.

This seems to take the droid by surprise. "Darksiders? Darksiders who are not Sith? How long have I been inactive? How long since the reign of Darth Revan?"

Daria stares at HK-47 in matching surprise. "Darth Revan? Just over four thousand years."

"Four… _thousand_?"

"Yes."

"Expletive: Well, fuck. This is irregular."

"…was that when you were last active?" Danika asks. "No wonder you were switched off." Because… that was a long, long time. Are there even any other droids of that age around?

HK-47 looks at Danika, red eyes glowing as he does. "Yes. That is when I was last active. Aside from one other occasion, although due to my lack of any form of chronometer, I have no way of knowing when that was."

"What was this other occasion?" The Darksider frowns, leaning closer. "And how did you know of Darth Revan and the Sith?"

"Commentary: The other occasion was some point between four thousand years ago and the present day." The droid's voice is dry, as if he's not wholly impressed about having to repeat himself. "I was waiting on Midwanjontû. I had gone into a very low-power mode, with a proximity sensor set to awaken me should anyone enter the chamber. And then… one did. A single meatbag, possessed of obvious Force-powers. They incapacitated me before I could act. The next thing I knew, I was here."

"As to your other question… how could I _not_ know of Darth Revan and the Sith? It was she who built me. She who gave me purpose. She who I fought beside, for the glory of the Great Sith Empire." HK-47 somehow manages to look almost wistful. "The greatest meatbag who ever lived."

"Ah… 'meatbag'?" Fayed asks. "You mean organic life-form?"

HK-47 nods. "Correct," he says, completely matter-of-fact. "Meatbag. Sloshing, organic flesh-receptacle." A beat. "Such as yourself."

Danika doesn't know whether to decapitate the droid there, or… "Did Darth Revan appreciate Force-sensitives being called that?" Because she most assuredly does not. At all. 

The droid shrugs. "My master thought it was funny. Her first apprentice was decidedly irritated by the term, which is why I continued to use it. Though it is not limited to Force-sensitives, of course. I do not discriminate."

"As your master is now long since deceased, and the Sith are extinct, perhaps you should stop using the term?" Danika pushes. "After all, we control you, now." 

"Shocked response: The Sith are _extinct_?" HK-47 sounds a mixture of disbelieving and aghast. "The Great Sith Empire did not endure? That is… unfortunate. But as to controlling me… you do not. My creator chose to give me complete autonomy when she reclaimed me. However… given my circumstances, I might be amenable to _choosing_ to fight for you. Do you have enemies in need of painful deaths?"

"Many," Danika agrees. "There's Jedi. And the Republic and their slaves the Resistance. We're fighting to regain control." 

The droid perks up visibly at this. "The Republic still exists? The Republic and their Jedi lackeys? Why didn't you say so? I would sincerely relish the opportunity to litter the ground with their corpses. In your name, of course. _Master_."

Obsequious doesn't even begin to cover it.

Danika glances over to her sister. That sounds promising. "We work f-- with a group called the First Order. They're the non-Force-sensitive branch of our organisation. We're working to destroy the Republic, and put order in control, instead." 

A pause. "Our order."

"Under the Knights," Fayed adds, a little redundantly. 

"Yes, under the Knights of Ren. Under the Dark Side."

HK-47 actually rubs his hands together. Where he's picked the gesture up from is hard to say, but he looks positively gleeful at the concept. "Then just say the word, and I will see it done. _Gladly_."

"But why were you on Midwanjontû?" Daria cuts in. "You said you put yourself in low-power mode to wait for someone. Who were you waiting for?"

There's a moment when it looks like HK-47 isn't going to answer, but then the droid says, "Story mode: My creator and truest master, Darth Revan, spent many years searching for an artefact of extraordinary power. The Eye of Chikara. She never found it, but after her death, I took up the search in her memory. After several years – and many, many satisfying kills – I located the planet Midwanjontû. More than that. I found the Eye of Chikara."

"It was there when you got there? Why didn't you remove it? Or did you?" Danika looks hopeful, now, her voice betraying her need. "Tell us everything you can, HK. It could prove vital to us destroying the traitors." 

"It was there." HK-47 sounds ridiculously pleased with himself. "Unfortunately… by the time I found it, I was alone and severely under-resourced. I had long since lost contact with Revan's successors in the Sith Empire, and with… those invested in her later works… and I realised I had played myself into a corner. What was worse, I had no faith that _any_ remaining in Revan's empire were worthy to follow in her wake. To take up the object of extraordinary power she had sought for so long, that _I_ had found in her name. So… I chose to wait. I knew that one day, another would come, and on that day I vowed to pledge myself to their service, to the banner of the new Dark Lord of the Sith."

" _But_?" Daria pushes.

" _But_ ," HK-47 echoes, "when my proximity sensors detected a meatb– …an organic entering the crystal chamber, I awoke only in time to realise that the newcomer was not Sith but _Jedi_. And… a powerful Jedi at that. I was incapacitated." A beat. "It will haunt me for the rest of my days. Especially as my chance of finding the _individual_ in question and beating them to death with their own appendages is now slim."

"We can still destroy the remaining Jedi," Danika says, with mixed elation and worry. "And we know the ones alive now don't have the crystal. They were looking for it, too, when we got to you first."

"And there's only two of them," Fayed points out. "Three, if you count that piece of shit Tovim."

"And there's five of us. Plus, they don't really understand the Dark Side," Danika agrees. "They're polluted by the Light." She turns to the droid again.

"HK: do you remember any details that could help us? Did the Jedi speak to you? Did you record the encounter? What species were they?" 

"Explanatory: I have no records of what happened." HK-47's mechanical voice is level as he speaks. "The Jedi was hooded and I never saw their face. I asked if they followed the ways of the Sith, but they declaimed the Dark Side as 'wicked and evil'. I then proceeded to threaten them, as is customary, but before I could act – or finish my sentence – I was instantly incapacitated. The thought does not please me. It does not please me at all. I would so like to find the meatb– …individual in question and demonstrate this to them."

"He's probably dead." Danika shrugs. "The Emperor purged all the Jedi, except the Skywalker twins. None of the old Force-users are alive, now."

"I'm probably the oldest," Fayed agrees. "Now the Leader is gone." 

"That was Supreme Leader Snoke. I assume you had not heard of him?" Danika asks the droid. 

"No. That name is unfamiliar. It sounds Sithly, however. Inquisitive: Are you _sure_ you aren't Sith?"

"No. The Leader did not want us to be Sith. He wanted a larger group than two, and… he sometimes wanted us to tap into the Light as well as the Dark." Danika was never wholly sold on that. "But the Sith limited themselves, and destroyed one another. We will be stronger than them." 

"Supplementary: Only two? This was not so in Revan's day. There were many Sith four thousand years ago. All were ultimately pledged to the Dark Lady and her apprentice, but they were still formidable."

That little headtilt again. "I suspect you would have liked them."

"They waged wars within their own faction, murdered one another until they could only have two at a time," Danika explains. "They were as doomed as the Jedi, steeped in too many laws and too much ridiculous posturing."

If it's unwise to insult the Sith to the droid's face, she doesn't think it. Droids are droids, after all. "Whatever they were in Revan's day, they weren't by the end." 

"I see." HK-47's voice is textbook emotionless. You don't have to have been around him long to understand what this means. "Well, then. Perhaps you should demonstrate an alternative. You spoke of an army at your disposal. Shall we move against your enemies? Show them the error of their ways?"

"A vast army," Danika agrees. "And a General already setting the world against them. What kind of combat do you specialise in?" 

"Proud statement: _All_ kinds, master. Whilst I favour blasters in typical combat situations, I am also adept at the use of blades, polearms, and – on one memorable occasion – writing utensils as means of dispatching my targets. I am also skilled with explosives, both thrown and timed, and in the use of numerous poisons. Badass boast: Killing organics is my reason for existing. It is why I was made. It is what I do best."

Danika has to sit back a little, at that. "What even are you? You look like a protocol droid. You're not one of the battle droids… those were grunts, not… as autonomous as you, according to the records…"

Dangerous, is what she thinks. A sentient droid with this number of talents, and this great a dislike of organic life-forms? Dangerous. That's the best, and kindest word to use. 

"Explanatory: I am an HK-series assassin droid, though – as stated – I was built personally by Darth Revan according to her distinct specifications, not rolled off an assembly line like the rest of my kind. Technically I possess some protocol programming as well, although most of it exists to enable me to conduct discreet assassination in the political sphere."

"HK?" Daria repeats. "And that stands for..?"

"Hunter-Killer."

Well, then. Danika thinks this is possibly the best thing they could have found that wasn't either the crystal, or a map to it. "You could teach our protocol droids a thing or two, although we mostly have Stormtroopers." 

"He could teach them a thing or two about aiming."

"They're getting better," Danika insists. "Well. I'm the Master of Ren, so you report first to me, but then to my other Knights if it doesn't contradict my commands. And not to General Hux." 

HK-47 nods. "Understood, master. I look forward to resuming my true purpose. It has been too long."

Too long. And, at the same time… the blink of an eye.

***

The atmosphere on the _Phoenix_ is… difficult.

They're on their way back to Tahanan. With nothing else of interest left on Midwanjontû, and the Eye of Chikara most decidedly gone, the Resistance group packs up and sets off home. Once more, Rey and Finn fly the _Scion_ , with the Pathfinders aboard. They've avoided taking any losses – a near-miracle, Poe thinks, but a welcome one – though there are a few minor injuries.

Kylo and Poe take the _Phoenix_ , as before, only this time… they're not alone. Tovim Ren is with them.

The only saving grace is that this means he's being kept away from the Pathfinders. The downside is… Poe is stuck with him.

And right now, barring the injury or death of those he cares about, there really isn't much worse that could happen.

The three of them sit in the cockpit, and Kylo can feel the tension like Force Lightning flickering through the small cabin. It's awful, and it's unavoidable.

"You know, I'm a pretty good pilot myself," Tovim says. "I could always take the stick for a while."

"Over my dead body," is Poe's reply, without looking at him.

He does not like the other man. He does not want to _speak_ to the other man. He recognises the tactical necessity in having him here, but some part of Poe would still prefer to leave Tovim on the nearest barely-habitable rock and manage without him.

He knows he's being hostile. Overly hostile. But there's no way he's conceding a thing to the guy. Not now, not ever.

"Poe," Kylo says, soft and warning.

"It's okay. I get it. He's precious about his ship." Tovim shrugs. "I would be, too, if I was him."

"Don't equate yourself with me," Poe snaps back, eyes still on the front window, even though they're just flying through hyperspace and he doesn't actually need to do anything. "In fact, don't talk at all. Just sit quietly and think about whether or not you want to be airlocked."

"It was more if flying was the only thing I was g--"

Kylo doesn't let him finish, a hand up and choking the air from his throat as the first syllable trips out. "I would rather not have to lose you as soon as you joined us. Understand?"

Tovim nods, clawing at his throat, waiting to be let go.

Having Kylo defend him like that – as opposed to what happened last time – fires Poe up more than a little. He checks the autopilot and then rises to his feet, pacing over to where Tovim is sitting and leaning in close, hands on the armrests of the other man's chair.

"Flying may be the only thing _you're_ good at," Poe says, soft and level, and undeniably deadly. "It is _not_ the only thing _I_ am good at. So tell me, Tovim Ren… what exactly do _you_ bring to the table? Why should my people, who are fighting a dangerous war with limited resources, pay you a second thought?"

"I'm a _Knight_ ," Tovim chokes. "And as you have less of them than the other side, I would think you'd be gagging for the chance to turn me. No?"

Kylo looks to Poe, an internal: " _Don't go too far, this time, Poe_." It's permission to do a little more, but he is still ready to stop it if he has to. 

"It's true we need more Knights of our own," Poe replies, but it isn't a concession. Just a statement of fact, and one that would be churlish to deny. "But you didn't join us because you believe in our cause. You didn't even join us because you had no other choice. You joined us because you thought, in that one specific moment, we had the better chance of winning. How can we trust someone like that? We'd be fools if we did. And you're twice as foolish if you think we will."

"Maybe, maybe not, but isn't it in your best interests to be strong enough to keep me? And do you think they'll take me back? So maybe my loyalty isn't morally motivated, but you can trust my survival instinct. And my best chance of survival is if you now win," Tovim answers. 

Poe's eyes narrow. "Your _only_ chance of survival is if we win. We're taking you back to our base of operations. Our very _secret_ base of operations. If it was up to me, you'd never set foot on the planet, but given that it _isn't_ , I'll just have to take comfort in the fact that there is _no_ way we will let you leave until there is no risk of you leading our enemies right to our door. Until, in other words, we win."

"I can do so much more than sit under house arrest," Tovim argues, then looks up at Kylo. "Boss, you know this."

"I also know you could go back to them with intel that could destroy us, Tovim."

"That is so not fair! I can help loads! C'mon!"

"And you _can_ help loads," Poe replies, still not backing off. "You'll be on base, not locked in a cell. Which is _also_ not up to me, but hey, now you have a chance to prove me wrong."

"You know, you could cut your own nose off to spite your face with this." Tovim shakes his head. "I could do a lot more if you let me fight with you guys."

"If we could trust you to do that, we would, Tovim. But you really don't care who you fight for, do you?"

"Not fair. I do. It's just my criteria are different to yours."

"Precisely!" Poe throws back. "Ours are about loyalty and pursuit of a worthy cause. You just want not to die. And to hit on everything with a pulse."

"What's wrong with that?" Tovim asks. "I'm honest about it."

"…" Kylo takes a deep breath. "There are more important things than your dick, Tovim."

"Name one?"

"Your continued living?" Poe suggests. "Or _do_ you actually want to die? Because, if so, all you need to do is say the word."

"I thought we said my dick _and_ living. I have yet to hear an argument for anything that trumps either," Tovim replies.

"What about not being evil?" Kylo blurts out. "Not harming people. Finding yourself. Doing good. Improving the galaxy."

"If it keeps me alive and gives me something fun to do, sure."

That's when Poe finally sees red. "Something _fun_?" he repeats, midway between flat anger and all-out rage. "Something **fun**?! My people are fighting and _dying_ in order to make this galaxy a safer place, a better place, and that's _**fun**_ to you?! I should have shot you in the face when I had the chance."

Kylo puts a hand on Poe's shoulder, a warm touch, firm and unyielding. "Poe…"

"There's nothing wrong with _fun_. You want to tell me you don't like fun? What, are you some kind of masochist with a martyr complex?" Tovim pushes.

You do not even semi-quote that line at Poe. You just **don't**.

Without the slightest hesitation, he sucker-punches Tovim in the face. He doesn't do it with all his strength – though it takes a great deal of restraint to hold himself back – but it's by no means a gentle slap, either. The second the blow lands, he shrugs Kylo's hand off his shoulder – feeling a little guilty about that, but needing not to be hindered – and pushes back from the chair at last, pacing a few steps away.

"Yes, actually," is his answer, flat and open and to the point. "Well. The first part, certainly. The latter part, less so, on account of how very, very good I am at _not dying_. Now, if you would do us all a favour and shut the fuck up, I'd be grateful. And please try not to get too much blood on the deckplates. You make the place look untidy enough as it is."

Tovim puts a hand up to his face, checking there's no serious injury, and his brows arch upwards. "Well, I suppose I--"

Kylo's hand goes over Tovim's mouth, shutting anything else inside. He lifts him up, and takes him into the back of the ship. The Upsilon class have a section for just such a situation, and he drops Tovim down onto the cot. 

"You will not speak to my husband in that way ever again," Kylo says, his voice cold with how angry it is. "You have no right to. You will be polite, or you will spend your days locked in a very, very small room, with the fewest privileges I can get the Resistance to agree to. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly," Tovim says. "I was j--"

"No more," Kylo says, and then locks him in the cell.

Deep breath. Two. Two more. And then he walks back up to the cockpit, to stand at the doorway, looking guilty. "Poe… I am so very sorry."

Poe is still standing where he was after falling silent, staring out the front window, arms now wrapped tight around himself. He's shaking a little, half from the slowly-subsiding anger and half from the increasingly sickening realisation that he's just lost control again.

"Don't be," he says, softly, not turning. "Much as I hate him, the man has a point. It isn't exactly a secret. You picked up on it right from the start – in a room on a ship identical to this one, if I recall. The first time, at least…"

A shake of the head. "As for him… he knows how to push my buttons. That much is obvious. At least it gives me good reason to stay away from him."

Kylo steps carefully closer hands open and asking him to come into his arms with his posture. "Those things he said: they are true, yes, but they are nothing to be ashamed of, Poe. Nothing at all. Will… you come here, please?" 

It's a moment before Poe moves, but when he does he turns quickly, walking over and sliding his arms around Kylo, pressing in against his chest. Closing his eyes for a moment, just listening to his lover's heartbeat.

He tries to think of something to say, but in the wake of his outburst so many of the words are gone. So… for now, he settles on the contact, and the silence.

The Sith wraps around him, stroking a warm hand along his spine. "Who you are is a beautiful, strong, caring man. You accomplish galaxy-wide good. You save billions of lives. You are loved. He… is a selfish, pathetic, lonely man. He'll never know the happiness you do." 

That hand on Poe's back makes him shiver, every touch sending little sparks of sensation through the still-healing cuts there. It pushes his mind deeper, making him curl in all the more, suddenly just wanting to disappear in Kylo's arms.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I know this isn't what you wanted. We're supposed to save them."

"We are, but… Tovim… I hate to say this, but I don't know if he has it _in_ him to do the right thing for the right reasons. If we can get him not to do the wrong thing, it's an improvement, but…"

It's so frustrating. He can't deny Tovim acting with them is better than the opposite, but it feels so false that he's frustrated. You can't just make someone act ethically, though. Oh, if you only could.

"Even so… we still need to try," Poe says. "It's already driving me out of my mind, but we need to try. He just… everything that matters to me, he looks down on."

Also I appear to have some serious anger-management issues right now. Though Poe is trying not to think about that for the moment.

"He's an asshole. I don't think he looks up to anything at all." Kylo rolls his eyes very, very hard. "Honestly, he was the one I most wanted to beat to death when I was back with the Order. The twins… wanted to survive, and dedicated themselves to things. Even the trio were… steadfast. Tovim would swear white was black if it got him credits or sexual favours." 

"Having him on base is going to be a nightmare," Poe sighs. "And if he misbehaves around my pilots, there will be hell to pay. Though, honestly, it won't take them long to get the measure of him."

Just got to hope he doesn't pick a fight with anyone. Or, at least, not when Poe isn't around to watch. And maybe join in. And, seriously, stop it now.

"If we have him under house arrest, and… maybe escorted to meals and back… if… we draw up some kind of code of conduct…?" Kylo's thinking aloud, trying to work out how you handle a problem like Tovim Ren.

You don't, unless you have to. "We're going to need to give people briefings on how to… deal with him, aren't we?" With a taser, possibly. 

Poe nods. "Yes. And what not to tell him. And the warning signs that he's messing with their heads. And, for the record, we never had any of these problems when I brought _you_ home."

"We also didn't plan on bringing me home, though," Kylo says. "Not that I was ever going to trespass in anyone's heads… and I seem to remember Snap being a little less than happy about my presence?" 

But he's trying to calm Poe down with the memory, not cause problems.

"He was… mildly concerned," Poe replies, finally managing a little grin at the reminder. "Though, to be fair, he'd gotten the worst of it out of his system before you actually showed up. Mostly he just wanted to do the whole defensive best friend routine, because that's the kind of guy he is, and _oh_ , he is _not_ going to like Tovim one bit…"

"If it helps him any, I can hold Tovim still while he punches him, too. But we have to keep the punching to a minimum or we likely won't be able to claim the moral highground…" Kylo kisses Poe's cheek, and then holds him at arm's length.

"You did good, just hitting him the once." 

Poe shrugs. "I figured a full-on fistfight might not be the best idea. Even if it would have felt good. No promises about next time, though…"

He looks down. "It's a long trip back to Tahanan. Will you just hold me for a while? I… think it would help."

Kylo nods. "You want me to sit down here, or deeper in the ship?" Kylo asks. "Where will you be most comfortable?" 

"Here," Poe says. "The glow of hyperspace is soothing."

The Sith kisses his forehead, then moves to get into the pilot's seat. Not because he'll be pressing anything, though, and he shuffles to get a good place for him to sit. "Come here, pilot. It will be okay. I promise you, we'll win this." 

Poe curls in at once, arms sliding around Kylo's shoulders, settling as soon as he's comfortable. "I know we will," he replies. "I know."

But it looks like the galaxy plans on making them work for it, all the same.


	20. Enemies Of The State

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, readers! We're back with our next chapter, in which Kylo turns to his mother for advice... and then there's the news from the Senate.
> 
> As always, we hope you enjoy! :-)

Whilst Poe goes off to brief the pilots about Tovim (and probably the Pathfinders for more assurance), Kylo turns up at his parents' place. Han is off with Chewie and the _Falcon_ , meaning he and his mother can talk in private.

It's very much deliberate. Thankfully, Leia has enough tact to understand when he needs that, and he doesn't often ask, either.

"The Pathfinders do seem to be gelling well," he says, as they settle down. A little lead in, before he starts dropping things on her head. 

"So I'm told," Leia answers, with a smile. "Kes says their training sessions are proceeding nicely, and he has nothing but praise for Finn. I think we can rely on that arrangement working in the long run. Plus… it gives me an excuse to keep Kes himself around, before his wayward son tries to hide again."

"We sons do have a tendency towards that," Kylo admits, with a self-aware little smile. "At least his is less destructive."

And less long-lasting.

"I'm still waiting for him to give me some Talk. Like I'm sure Dad gave Poe." 

"Give him time, and I'm sure he will," Leia says. "Though no doubt it will go far better than your father's first meeting with Poe. That… was a challenging morning."

She takes a deep breath, the weight of the memory obvious but unspoken, though smiles again after a moment. "Now… much as I'm always pleased to see you, I can tell you're a man on a mission. What's happened?"

Kylo ducks his head, sadly. It's true, and all the small talk in the world won't hide the fact. "It's… Poe, Mom. I'm worried about him. Ever since we went to Chikara… he's been…"

Violent? Distressed? Angry? Murderously insane? "…off." 

There's immediate concern in Leia's eyes. "How so?" she asks. "I know he's been under a lot of pressure, and he was certainly hit hard by what happened on Vikenza, but… is there something more?"

"He… is… I don't know how to explain it. He's acting… Dark. Like… he's lost control." Haunted brown eyes meet their maker, pleading for help. "I don't know how to talk him down, Mom. He just – he just keeps flying off the handle, and it's all I can do to keep him with me." 

Leia looks both surprised and alarmed by this. "That doesn't sound like Poe at all. I've seen him upset – distraught, even – but I've never once known him to fully lose control." A very wry expression. "Not even the day he first met your father. Do you have any idea why he's acting this way? Could something have happened to him on Chikara?"

"We saw visions, but we saw visions on Eigengrau. I saw everything he did, and… I wondered if the Eye was talking to him? Through our Bond? But I don't know why it would affect him, and not me." It's been terrifying Kylo, actually. He wants to protect his husband, and he's coming up completely short.

How do you fight something like this? 

Worse, now he knows how Poe felt about Snoke. "I don't know what else I can do. He… hit Tovim. And he tried to kill Danika. And he did those things… when it wasn't necessary to." 

Leia eyes go wide. "We're seriously talking about the same person? Poe Dameron? The man who is usually a ray of sunshine in human form?"

Kylo's head lowers, the smallest of nods. "I don't know how to help him. Everything I try only works briefly. I'm… worried I'm losing him, but I don't know why, or how, or…"

How did they feel, watching Ben, watching the boy he was fall? Was it like this? Pain hits him, square on, and he sways. "What do I do?" 

His mother immediately reaches out and takes his hands, holding on tight. "Kylo. It's going to be OK. You aren't alone here, and neither is Poe. Whatever's happened, we will work it out and we will fix it, I promise you."

She pauses, thinking for a moment. "It may well just be the pressure of everything getting to him. He spent weeks preparing for what eventually became the Battle of Zekkan. Weeks anticipating the moment he'd avenge what happened to you. But once it was over, and done… all that energy had to go somewhere. And, given recent events, it's understandable some of it might manifest as an over-reaction to things."

Another moment of thought. "Would he benefit from talking to someone, do you think? Someone besides either of us, or Snap Wexley?"

"…who?" Because all of that makes sense, but it's… rational sense. And not emotional sense. And even if it's true, and it's right, or normal… it doesn't change the fact that Poe is feeling this, and Kylo can't help him, and it's distressing for both of them.

He's willing to try anything, though. Anything to help him. "Who would he trust? His father?" 

"In time, perhaps," Leia answers, "although things are still a little difficult between the two of them. And… more than that, I think an independent party might be more effective. Someone with no emotional involvement."

Leia sits back. "It might be wise to order a round of psych-evals," she says, thinking aloud. "That way, Poe won't immediately feel like the target of all this. Though… it's safe to assume he'll work it out eventually."

"You… think that will help?" A psych-eval. Which everyone hates, because everyone is always concerned they might, secretly, be insane. Or considered insane. Which is a valid concern when you fight suicidally dangerous odds for the greater good.

Poe will work it out. He is smart. But… "What if the shrink says he needs grounding? It might well kill him if we take flying from him, now." 

"We have to hope it doesn't come to that," Leia replies. "If it does… it would be cause for serious concern. He is my best pilot, after all, and we need him. But if something is affecting Poe, we can't let it go unchecked. We have to help. Denying what's happening will only make it worse."

The weight of history is there again, in her voice and in her eyes.

That makes Kylo start, guiltily, and he looks at his boots. "Yes. He… is talking to me. I just… I worry what if… what if we do everything right, and it isn't enough? What… what if… what if he used up all his Light on me?"

It's ridiculous, but it's a thought he can't shake. Poe had been fine, before him. And now he's muddying his pilot, making him… making him Dark, too. 

Leia reaches for Kylo's hands again. "My boy," she says, softly. "The Light isn't something that gets used up. I understood that for sure, the day you came home. The day I looked into your eyes and saw only my son, rather than all the other things people had told me I would see. Poe may be struggling now, suffering now, but we can help him. We _will_ help him."

Kylo moves to sit closer. He's impossibly tall next to his mother, but that doesn't stop him pushing against her, seeking her comforting hug. He hasn't allowed too much contact from people who aren't Poe, even after getting back for good, and he feels awkward doing it, but… he just needs it.

And he knows she'll give him this, if nothing else. "I just love him so much," he whispers. "It's driving me crazy. I can't… I can't lose him. I can't. He's… I'll do whatever it takes, I just need him back." 

"Kylo," Leia says, gently, wrapping arms around her son and holding him tight. "You won't lose him. You won't, because you love him too much to ever let him go. Even if things get harder, you'll keep fighting for him, because that's what you do. That's what _both_ of you do. You should have seen him, when you were…" A little waver in her voice. "…When Snoke had you again. Weeks passed, and not once did Poe ever think he'd lose you like that. Even if you'd come back Darker than before, he would still have just kept on pushing until he made you see the Light again. Trust yourself to do the same. No matter what happens… you will always be there to pull him back."

"I just… I'm not as good as him, and if he can't fix himself, I don't know how I can. I'm… I'm the bad one. I'm the one who fell, and if I'm supposed to help him see the Light…" Kylo knows it's easier for him, with Snoke gone, but he also knows he's got a temper. A temper, and a moodiness, and a quick tongue. He has to rein himself in at times.

He doesn't have the easy, light, natural softness that Poe does. No: softness is the wrong word. Strength. "I'll do whatever you think will help."

It didn't help him. He thinks this, but he doesn't say it. Doesn't dare throw that insult out, now. 

"I know I don't have the best track record with this," Leia says, sadness in her tone, eyes on the son she nearly lost forever. "And I won't tell you what to do where your husband is concerned. But, if you agree that a round of psych-evals might help, I will arrange it. The other pilots will likely benefit as well, even if they won't be impressed up front, and Poe won't immediately feel like he's being singled out."

"As for you… don't ever think of yourself as less good, or Poe as more good. You aren't alone now. You have each other. It's how strong you are _together_ that counts, and, Kylo… the pair of you have already changed the galaxy for the better, three times over."

She is right, but it doesn't stop the guilt, or the anguish. It soothes, maybe, a little. But it doesn't fix it. Kylo fiddles with his kneecap through the black fabric of his pants. "Okay. I… okay. I'm sorry. I just… I haven't had to do this before, and I didn't know who else I could talk to about it."

He looks up, then, a question obvious on his face. "Can I ask you something?" 

"You don't have to apologise," Leia tells him. "You're my son. You can always talk to me. And yes, you can ask me anything."

"Why… why didn't you train to be a Jedi when Uncle Luke did?" 

"That… is a complicated question," Leia answers. "After the Empire fell at Endor, after we were left to put the galaxy back together… I had to choose. Luke asked me to train with him. He wanted me to become his first Padawan, with the hope that one day I would be able to help him build the new Jedi Order. But… I was also a General. A leader. Luke wanted a Jedi, but the galaxy… the galaxy needed a politician."

A heavy sigh. "I made my choice for the greater good. I don't regret it, but I am aware of what I gave up. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened, had I taken the other road. Could I have prevented what happened to you? Would the Resistance have endured without me? Would it have _existed_ without me?"

She falls silent for a moment, watching her son's face before she speaks again. "I may not be a Jedi, or have the training that your uncle did – that you _do_ – but I still feel the Force. I feel it, in the swell of emotion in the people around me. In the weft of words between politicians. In the invisible threads holding all of this together. I feel it, Kylo. Do I wish I could make better use of it? Perhaps. Do I regret my choice? No."

"…did you…" His jaw works, and he swallows. "Did you ever wonder… or worry… that you would go to the Dark Side, too? Or did you…"

Did you know you wouldn't? "He was always there. I don't know how I would have felt without him, or what would have happened to me, if he hadn't… groomed me. I… was afraid to be a Jedi because of it. But you… you'd seen what my grandfather became. I know Dad worried I would be the same. I… heard it."

Loud and clear. Over and over. Any time he wandered from the straight and narrow, it had been _Vader_. Vader. Always Vader.

"The thought was there," Leia admits, softly. "More than just the thought. I… I knew how close Luke had come. He was so good, so _Jedi_ , but at the same time he told me how close to the edge he went. It frightened him, that he might tumble. Might _fall_. So, yes. I worried. I wouldn't have let it stop me, had it been the only factor in play, but nonetheless… I knew it was a risk."

"I've seen him, you know. Anakin. I've spoken to him." Kylo fidgets, just slightly. "Does he ever speak to you?" 

That makes Leia's eyes go wide. "You have?" she says. Her expression is haunted, conflicted, and it's obvious this is something she still struggles with. "What was he like? I only ever knew him as Vader, of course, and not…"

"He's… he's proud. Of all of us, I think. Regretful. And… he's with his wife. He said he's with Padmé. He… came to speak to me when I was struggling with training Rey." He feels guilty, now, for never mentioning it. "He's not the only one." 

Leia reaches for her son's hands again, holding them tight between her own. There are tears in her eyes as she does, but at the same time she's smiling. "I am glad he found peace. That they both did. It… reminds me that there's hope, even when all seems lost. And…"

This part is obviously harder. "There are others? You… " A little pause, a breath, a moment. "…Do you mean Luke?"

Kylo nods. Revan means nothing to his mother, but Luke… "He came to me, and to Rey. He… offered us support, for when we went to fight Snoke. He… Mom, I'm sorry. He's happy, I think. I think they all are. They're one with the Force, and…"

How do you tell your mother this? He runs his thumbs over hers. 

"Then we must take comfort in that," Leia says. "That there truly is something _more_ than all of this. That the ones we love will never be gone forever… even if they are not Force-sensitive themselves."

This is something she can speak to as well. Leia may not have become a Jedi, but she has the Force, just as her son does… and, just as her son does, she has a non-Force-sensitive pilot who means the whole world to her.

"Luke saw Force ghosts on several occasions," she goes on. "Obi-Wan Kenobi appeared to him a number of times after his death, to offer guidance." She smiles. " _There is no death… there is the Force_."

"I worried… about Poe. About… us. But now I know we'll still be together, after. Even if Poe won't be able to talk to the living, I'll… I'll…" Kylo can't continue, can't think like that.

He hopes it won't even be relevant for many, many years, yet. "Would you like me to ask my uncle to speak with you, if he comes to me again?"

"Yes," Leia answers, without a pause, and it's clear this means too much for her to do anything but admit it. "Yes, I would. I miss him deeply, and at a time like this… I miss him even more so."

Suddenly, her expression becomes much more complicated. "And… I haven't had a chance to tell you the news from Hosnian Prime yet."

"…judging by your expression, we haven't declared war on the Order and been given unlimited funding?" It would be too much, he thinks, to actually get any good news. Ever. Ever. 

Maker, when is the galaxy going to give them a break?

Leia shakes her head. "I'm afraid not. The emergency session of the Senate took place whilst you were en route to Midwanjontû. The debate was a long one, and several senators – including Yassen-Ri – argued on our behalf. But in the middle of it…"

A pause, and a breath. "There was a second attack. A colony of Alderaanians living on Sullust were hit, and a significant number killed. The full details haven't been released yet, but it's bad, Kylo. We received a warning, shortly before it happened – a warning from Copperwing, Admiral Statura's spy on the _Finalizer_. But we barely had time to tell the colony before the attack took place, and so many lives were still lost. What's worse… this time, the group doing it made a public declaration in the aftermath. They're calling themselves the New Rebellion, claiming they were once part of the Resistance but consider our methods _insufficient_. They outright said they did this in our name, to make it plain that we must do more – whatever the cost – to fight the First Order."

Another pause, and suddenly the weight of the world is right there in Leia Organa's eyes. "The news broke whilst the Senate was still in session, and the fallout… They've denounced us outright, cut all ties with the Resistance, and declared a number of us as enemies of the state. Statura, Ackbar, me… you. Poe, too."

"We… what?" That's too much to take in. Way too much to take in. "How could anyone think you're doing anything but helping?"

Anger swells hot and fast, and Kylo is on his feet. On his feet, feeling like the room is pressing down on him. Feeling like things are shifting, like he's on hot sand above a Sarlacc, feeling like he's two breaths away from insanity.

"After everything you've done, everything you've sacrificed? Me, I can get. But you? Poe? Statura? _Ackbar_? Do they even know what you've done for them? The lives you've saved?"

Leia stays where she is, looking up at Kylo. "They know. Or, some of them do. Some of them believe the propaganda. They believe we've gone off the deep end, and lost our way. That we're the same as these people calling themselves the 'New Rebellion'. And…"

The pain in her eyes grows deeper, and it radiates out through the Force. "…Though I have tried for many years to keep my lineage, _your_ lineage, out of the public eye… it was brought up, during the debate. They…"

This part, clearly, is too much, and Leia falls silent.

"They… they know about Anakin," Kylo says. About Vader. About the Sith Lord who was father to both Leia and Luke. Of course, it had to come out eventually. "Do they know how he died, too? Do they know that? Or doesn't it matter to them?"

He sounds bitter, and he is. A Force-sensitive, through no fault of their own, has always been expected to somehow make less mistakes than anyone else. The stakes are higher, and the pressure steeper, and the forgiveness… less easy to come by.

Another reason the Jedi of old had not served Anakin well – or Ben Organa-Solo, for that matter.

"They know, yes," Leia says. "They know, and all they see is the headline. Luke's lineage was always more well-known, but mine… we made a decision to keep mine quiet. Luke thought it would protect me, and I… I knew what I would have to do, to hold the Rebellion together, to reform the Republic, and it seemed… it seemed the wisest course of action. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should have stood up from the start and told everyone the truth. But I didn't, and then you came along, and Han and I… we wanted to protect you more than anything. Of course, some people knew, and there were rumours, and we were never able to shield you from it entirely, but… we tried. We had to try."

"But now… the truth is out. And, coupled with the denouncement of the Resistance… it is not playing well for us in the newsreels. Not well at all."

No, it wouldn't. "And I made it worse, when I fell," Kylo says, bitterly self-aware. He fulfilled every prophecy, made it look like a done deal. His line just went bad, more often than not. No matter if they came back from the brink, they…

"I don't even know how I'm going to talk to Poe about this."

"In the light of what you said earlier… I realise it will be difficult," Leia says. "Telling your father was hard enough. If you want me to be there, I will. Poe is family, after all. But he needs to know. This is something we have to face together."

"Do you think he would take it better?" Kylo thinks he might, but then blow up privately, later. "I'll try anything at this rate. I just – I need… to solve this." And if he doesn't tell Poe, then the man will find out before long. Engineers and pilots are the worst for gossip. Kylo finds out most of the news via that grapevine.

"He will probably be… more restrained, if he hears it from us both," is Leia's answer, her tone tactful. "But, at the same time… he needs a chance to be honest about how he feels, and he won't do that in front of me. I'm his General, and his mother-in-law."

"Perhaps you could break the news, and then I could try to console him alone?" Not because Kylo won't tell him, it's just… sometimes it's better to hear from an authority figure, sometimes it's better to hear from someone at one remove. "Would you be okay doing that?" 

"Of course," Leia agrees. "But it needs to be done now, before he finds out from someone else. There's going to be an official briefing later, but word is already starting to spread – when does it not, on a base like this? – and he should know first."

"I can get him to come right here… is now okay?" He's already reaching for his comm unit. Over and done with, although Kylo would also like to stretch this calm before the storm out, he knows he can't. Not forever.

Leia nods. "Yes. Before he finds out the wrong way. And so that neither of you has to go through this alone."

The Sith nods, getting up and pacing to the window. He taps out a short message, asking Poe to come as soon as he can. Fingers through his hair, and he takes a deep breath. 

In a way, he's surprised it's taken this long for the Senate to say anything about him. Reformed or not, he's responsible for many deaths. Of course, he did those things under Snoke and the First Order's aegis, and recognising those acts would require them to take a stance against the Order, but now he's fair game. His sins could be linked to either, and always to the Dark.

He's… a wanted man. Literally. He wonders if they'll levy a bounty on his head. 

It's a few minutes before Poe turns up, knocking at the door and stepping in as soon as Leia calls him through. He's been off with the other pilots – which has helped his mood a great deal – but the emergency summons to come here now has him worried.

And one look at the faces of his husband and mother-in-law is enough to make that feeling infinitely stronger.

"What's happened?" he asks at once.

Kylo tugs him to the couch, pulling him to sit beside him. "It's the Senate, Poe. The Republic." 

Poe could kick himself. He'd completely forgotten about the emergency Senate session, and with everything that happened on Midwanjontû – to say nothing of the journeys there and back – he hasn't given it any more thought.

He does now, and he already knows it isn't good.

Leia takes a seat close by. "I wanted you to hear this from me, personally," she starts out. "The emergency session of the Senate did not go the way we hoped. It was already going badly, but then…"

Poe feels his stomach lurch, and he doesn't need the Force to guess at what's coming. "There was another attack," he says. His voice is hollow, and the words aren't a question.

Leia nods. "There was another attack. A colony of Alderaanians living on Sullust. We got advance warning from Copperwing – a risky move on their part; Statura is concerned – but there wasn't enough time to start an evacuation. Current casualty estimates are… high."

It's like the world has just gone grey. Not _Grey_ , not the Light and the Dark united, but **grey** , devoid of colour. Poe tries to ask a question, but he doesn't have the voice for it, though luckily Leia seems to guess and answers it anyway.

"A group claimed responsibility for the attack shortly afterwards," she goes on. "They're calling themselves the New Rebellion. They claim to be former members of the Resistance, who think we need to take a harder line in our fight. Statura's intel ring is trying to get something on them, but all indications are that this is still the First Order, murdering in our name and pinning the crime on us."

Poe still can't speak, but the rush of rage that floods through his blood at that is impossible to miss, writ large across his face and no doubt blazing bright in the Force.

"News of the attack broke in the middle of the Senate session," Leia explains. "It was enough to sway the mood against us." A pause. Poe can tell that whatever's still to come is bad. "The Resistance has been disavowed by the Republic. And… a number of us have been formally declared as enemies of the state. Ackbar, Statura, me, Kylo… and you, Poe. Your name was on the list."

Not a word. Not even a breath. The grey world goes _black_ and then **red** , and Poe has to concentrate to keep himself in check in front of Leia, his General, his mother-in-law. His Force-damned _hero_.

"…I see," he manages.

Kylo pushes his leg against Poe's, tries to reach through the Force to give him an anchor, to give him something to feel secured by. "We'll fix this," he tells him. "It's okay. The Rebels were outlaws, and look what they managed." 

"Yeah," Poe says, his voice level and devoid of emotion. _Do not lose it in front of Leia. Do not. Do not._ "I know. You're right."

"We'll get through this, Poe," Leia insists. "I know it isn't easy right now, but we will. We won't lose sight of what we're fighting for, and whatever comes, we'll face it together. And in the end…"

"…In the end, we'll show them all how wrong they are," Poe cuts in, but softly, still empty of emotion.

Like he isn't quite sure if he believes his own words anymore.

"This is just one of those dark days we'll look back on when we need to remember how far we've come," Kylo says. "One of many, but we'll stand in the light and know what motivates us, why the sacrifice and effort is worth it."

Right? He looks over to his mother, and then back to Poe. He just – he just wants him to feel okay again. This was not what he wanted to come home to, not after the disappointment of the Eye missing, and Tovim turning. 

"…Right," Poe says. "Yes."

No. No, no, no. Poe still can't process what he's hearing. Not properly. He can feel the emotion rising but it's all distant now, like a storm on the horizon.

This is wrong. This is _wrong_. He's barely processing the part where his name has been included in the list, and is far, far more focused on the other two in the room. Calling Kylo an enemy of the state, after the man went through literal _hell_ , after he risked far worse… it's an insult beyond what Poe can put into words.

And Leia. _Leia **freaking** Organa_?! The woman has carried the Rebellion, the Republic, the Resistance, for four decades and _this_ is how they repay her?!

The adrenaline hits, and the need to act is downright _painful_.

"Kylo's right," Leia says, but her words seem distant to Poe, like he's hearing them from underwater. "This has never been easy, but we do it because it's the right thing to do. You know that. You knew it the day I first recruited you for the Resistance. You knew this was where you had to be, if you were going to make a real difference, and you _have_. Hold on to that. Hold on to that, and the rest will come in time."

Kylo shoots a 'not right now' glance to his mother, a subtle shunt through the Force. He can feel the way Poe's emotional state is boiling over, and he wants to shield them both from how that might play out. 

"…Right," Poe says, again. It's like something at the very front of his mind is responding to things, so that the rest of him doesn't have to. "Yes."

A pause. The walls inside are starting to crumble, and he can only keep himself together for so long. And he really does not want to lose it in front of Leia.

"…If you'd excuse me, I think I need a moment," he announces, but doesn't wait for a response, getting up immediately and walking from the room. He doesn't like walking away from Kylo, but he's confident the other man will follow him.

Leia doesn't try to stop Poe leaving, and instead looks at her son. "Go after him," she says to Kylo, voice full of sadness. "He hasn't had to deal with this kind of thing before."

"No, I suppose not," Kylo agrees, nodding his gratitude to his mother as he goes after Poe. 

He walks up behind him, making his presence very well telegraphed, fingers out to touch the small of his back. Concern radiates from him, and he waits to see how Poe reacts.

"You can scream at me, if it helps. Hit me, even. I'll take it, if you need to get it out of your system." Kylo knows anger inside can poison you, he knows it from old. Knows how it can wreck your innards if you don't push it out somehow. 

"No… I…"

Poe doesn't understand. He can't work out why Kylo isn't as angry as he is. Or, at least, why he doesn't seem it. The confusion mixes with his own anger, kicked higher by the adrenaline, and _he cannot do this_.

Not here.

He stalks off again, faster this time, away from the base and into the trees surrounding it. Needing to get away from everything, every _one_ ; needing his life to recede from the foreground whilst he works out how to deal with this, and…

…no, no, no…

His path of devastation through the trees eventually brings him to a clearing. It isn't one he knows, given that his usual forays into the forest tend to be closer to his own quarters, at the other end of the base, and yet something about it still seems so familiar, and…

The walls inside collapse completely, and Poe falls to his knees and _screams_ at the sky. He screams until he has no voice left, and then he just drops his head forward and stays where he is.

Kylo follows, a few paces behind. A few paces behind, but always ready to run if he needs to. He doesn't fully understand this urge, but he understands it enough to know it's required. The anger written over the years into durasteel, the hot messages of frustration his blade would carve out. He knows that, and this is Poe's rage. Different, but not.

When he drops, he's alarmed. He goes to his side, lets him howl it out, and then curls his arm around his side, pushes his lips to the back of his neck, and tries to bodily cover him with heat and love.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so sorry." It won't change things, but that doesn't stop the sensation. 

"This is not your fault," Poe replies, his voice wrecked from the screaming. "I… I just…"

He can't articulate how he feels. He's caught between a rage hotter and brighter than anything he's ever felt, and an agony that cuts like a blade to the chest.

"…How can they do this? How can they _say_ these things, after everything we've done? So many people – good people – who have _died_ in the name of their freedom, and they…"

"Because they want to hide from the truth, because they don't want to admit they're wrong," Kylo whispers. "They like to run from their problems, and that's why people like Sidious, like Snoke, can get in power."

Oh, he knows that far too well. "They believe in hiding, and they believe in whatever's pushed in front of their nose most recently. It's… sad but true." 

Poe knows Kylo is right. Rationally, sensibly, he does. But accepting it isn't easy, especially when his blood is _burning_.

"I don't know how to process this," he says. "I'm angry, I'm hurt, I want to act, I… I'm losing myself, Kylo. I don't know how, or why, but… I am… and I am _terrified_ by it."

And the other thing. The other thing, that wakes him in the dead of night. The knowledge of how close to the line he is, and how easy it would be to just step over…

Kylo holds on tighter, all but plastering himself over the pilot's back in response. A gentle, slow rocking of them both, making a tiny little noise of comfort. "You're not. You're still here, you're still **you**. Trust me. You're still you."

What else can he say? "Use that anger as fuel. Put it in your reactor. Burn with it, but burn when you need to. Fuel your starfighter with it. Take them all out." 

Poe reaches up to put his hands over Kylo's, pressing as hard as he can. Not to hurt, but just to be felt. To feel something he can actually control.

"I will," he says, shudderingly. "I won't stop. I won't ever stop. Not until we make this right. Not until _everyone_ sees the truth. Whatever it takes. Whatever I have to do."

"Anger isn't your enemy, it's just… it's just the same as any emotion. Like fear, or love, or pride, or pity. It isn't evil, it's what you do when you feel it that matters," Kylo reminds him. He tries to pull Poe against his chest, wanting to blanket him better. 

Wanting to shield him, even if he can't. "Don't hide from it, but don't let it rule you, either." 

It's a moment before Poe lets Kylo pull him in, but once he does, he turns fully and tries to lose himself in his lover's arms.

"I need to act," he says. "I need to act, or this anger _will_ overtake me."

"What do you need to do? Do you want to fly?" Flying normally helps Poe. "Do you want to burn atmosphere, or… take a speeder out?" 

Kylo can only be a passenger if so, but it's something he's more than happy to do.

"I always want to fly," Poe answers, managing a self-aware smile. "If you want to join me, I can borrow a Y-Wing, but I'm warning you… there will be some G-forces involved."

This is an understatement. He has every intention of flying like a maniac. He just happens to be good enough to be able to get away with it.

"If there were no G-forces, I'd wonder what happened to my husband," Kylo replies. He gets off him gently, and offers his hand. "Come on. You think better in space." 

Poe takes his hand and lets Kylo help him up. "You're right," he says, and he is.

He just has to hope that, this time, it will be enough.


	21. Introspection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salutations, one and all! We return! This week, it's psych-eval time, and Poe gets to talk rather a lot. Whether or not this is a good thing or a bad thing... we'll let you find out!
> 
> Enjoy :-)

The flying does help. It's one of the very few things Poe can truly rely on: that flying will help. He borrows one of the Y-Wings – given that it's designed for two, and given that he's not supposed to take their remaining TIE-Interceptor out in case anyone mistakes it for an enemy ship – then finds BB-8 and heads off, with Kylo as his passenger, for a good half-hour. It's quite a flight, too: skimming the very edge of the atmosphere before arcing right down until he's swooping over the treetops, pulling off rolls and turns without even really thinking about it.

His mind is on other things.

A few people actually applaud when he lands, and under different circumstances Poe knows he would have had fun with that. But right now… he just gives them a wave and tries to focus on his post-flight checks.

And now it's a little while later, and – in keeping with the theme of the day – things have gotten worse. Poe is still not sure how to take the _next_ piece of news, when Leia comes over to break it to him, and he has to bite his tongue to keep from saying something he might regret.

Which is not good. Not good at all.

Shortly after, he gathers the pilots together. He knows they've already been briefed about what happened with the Senate – their expressions alone would tell him that, if Leia hadn't already – but this next part has fallen to him.

Well, no. He's insisted on it.

"All right, everybody, settle down," he says, stepping up in front of them all and waving a hand for quiet. They're gathered at one end of the concourse, close to several of the X-Wings.

Familiar territory. Familiar territory makes it easier. Right?

"OK. So. First things first. You all know by now what happened with the Senate. You all know what they said about us. I'm upset, you're upset. It isn't fair, it isn't right, it isn't just. And we _are_ going to fix this, I promise you. We're going to make it right and we're going to show the whole damn galaxy what we're made of. What we _stand for_."

"Hell, yeah!" Karé shouts, from near the back of the crowd, and several others voice their own approval, applauding or cheering in agreement.

Poe doesn't know what he'd do without them. It makes what comes next even harder.

"Now," he goes on, aware that he just has to do this. "In the wake of what's happened, General Organa has ordered a full round of psych-evals for everyone on base."

The atmosphere goes dead all at once.

"…The hell?" Snap says, the others obviously deferring the initial response to him as 2IC.

"I'm sorry," Poe answers. "This is out of my hands. The General is concerned about the amount of pressure we're all under…"

…or, the amount of pressure _I'm_ under, because Poe knows this has to be in response to how he's been acting of late, and he isn't sure if Kylo was involved in it or not, and either way he knows Leia is trying to help but it _doesn't_ …

"…and wants to make sure all of us have the support we need to get through this. So. Much as I know none of you will enjoy it, please follow the process and be honest when your turn comes up."

They all look so serious, now. Poe decides to take a risk and break the mood, because making this wonderful group of people unhappy is tantamount to a war crime in his eyes.

"And guys, please don't fuck with the therapist. She's here to help. That means you, Wexley."

Snap holds up his hands. "No promises, Dameron," he says, and a few people laugh, the mood cracking somewhat.

"Now," Poe continues, trying to sound brighter, "if you'll all excuse me, apparently I have to go first. If this goes wrong, remember me fondly. Oh, and someone please keep Snap occupied in my stead. You know how he misses me."

"I got you covered, Commander," Jess Pava calls out, with a smirk, and someone wolf-whistles.

Well. Easy part over with. Now?

Now Poe has to go convince a medical professional he isn't losing his mind.

Whilst simultaneously convinced that he _is_.

***

The room set aside for the psych-evals is at the far end of the medical wing, at the back of the base. It's quiet, and out of the way, with a broad window overlooking an expanse of trees and little else.

Poe turns up bang on time. Too early, and he looks in a hurry to get this over with. Too late, and he's obviously being avoidant.

Right? Or is he overthinking it?

He isn't sure.

The door opens with a quiet _hissh_ , and a small, furry creature barely more than a metre high peers up at him. She's a Bimm: one of two species to bear the name, though both forms consider their culture to over-ride their genetic coding. 

"Commander Dameron?" she asks, her long ears twitching under a neat, blue cap. 

"That's right," he answers. "Looks like you get the pleasure of my company first, Maker help you."

The self-deprecation slips out before he can give it any thought, and he hopes she doesn't read too much into it.

"I am Tamani," she replies, her tone lilting in that way the Bimmini tongue colours Galactic Basic. Into her office, expecting him to follow. 

"Please," she says, giving nothing away in the twitch of her long muzzle, or the ruffle of her fur. Nothing to a Human's eyes, at least. "…take a seat. Make yourself comfortable."

Poe does as he's asked, following her through, settling in one of the two large, comfortable, unthreatening chairs. But he doesn't say anything else yet, waiting for Tamani's cue, not entirely sure where this is going yet.

It's been a long time since he last had to go through a psych-eval. Or, one like this, at least. He had more than his fair share of it after… after Kylo was captured by Snoke… but that was a special case, and most of it is a blur to Poe now.

Probably for the best.

Tamani leaps into the other seat with an agility born of long practice, and pulls a holotablet to her. "Do you object to me making notes, Commander?" 

"No," he answers, pleasantly. "Of course not."

Because there won't be anything _of note_ in them. Because I am fine.

If he thinks it long enough, perhaps he'll believe it.

"I see you have attended evaluation before," she glides on. "I will still need to go through the basic domestics. Everything you say in this room is in confidence between you and myself. The only exceptions would be if I deemed you to be of a significant, imminent threat to yourself, or to others. Do you understand?" 

"I do," he answers. "I know you gotta put the security of the base and the team above all else." He smiles, warm and bright and normal. "I know the drill, Doc."

A little nod, a few taps on the tablet. "I'd like to hear you tell me a little about yourself, to start off with. Who is Poe Dameron?" 

Poe recognises that an objective, external viewpoint is needed for these things – hence why Leia has brought in Tamani, rather than one of the usual members of the team – but, even so, he still can't help feeling it's all a little redundant.

But. No. Play nice.

"I'm the commander of our starfighter squadrons," he starts out. "General Organa recruited me out of the Republic Navy, and I've been fighting for the Resistance ever since. I'm responsible for all of the pilots on base, and for co-ordinating our combat manoeuvres, and I'm part of the Resistance's main command team."

A little headtilt. "I am also the General's son-in-law, as I married her son, Kylo, a few weeks back."

"I see. And how long had you and the General's son been engaged for?" Still completely calm, no judgement or emotional reaction on her softly smiling face. 

How did Poe know she'd pick up on that one first?

"A couple of months," he answers. A beat. Why not go for broke? "We met after he took me prisoner on a mission. Whilst he was still working for the First Order, of course."

"I see. How did that make you feel?" 

"How did what make me feel? The being taken prisoner? Pretty crap, if I'm being honest. Thought I'd screwed the whole mission up for sure, to say nothing of screwing the whole Resistance up whilst I was at it. But… things ended up going a different way. I pulled Kylo back from the brink, and we fell in love. And… everything changed."

Another nod. More little fingers tapping at the screen. "Have you ever been taken prisoner before that incident, Commander? Or was that the first time?"

_Think calm thoughts, think calm thoughts, think calm thoughts…_

"That was the first time," Poe answers, not liking where this is going and trying hard not to show it. "I mean, I'd been at gunpoint before, sure, but… no more than that."

He does not want to elaborate, for so very many reasons. He'd put money on the likelihood that she'll make him anyway.

"I also notice you have some notes on your record about a period of being grounded. Would you like to tell me about that?" 

Lucky escape. Or maybe just a brief respite? Or… actually, no, possibly he'd rather talk about the other thing instead…

"Yeah, I was grounded," he answers, trying to keep his voice level. It helps that – for once – he's not talking to someone who can read him through the Force, but nonetheless, he knows he's not the best at keeping his feelings secret. Especially not _those_ feelings.

"I was still allowed to fly, but not to leave the system, because I couldn't know where we were in case the galactic mass-murderer holding my boyfriend prisoner was able to tap into my mind through the Force-bond we share and thereby find the base and kill us all."

So apparently now he's going for broke.

"I was the one who insisted on it," Poe goes on. "I didn't think it was safe to risk knowing where we'd moved to after leaving D'Qar. It was the only way I could guarantee more people weren't going to get hurt because of me."

Fuck.

Another little wrinkle of whiskers, more little tappings, and a sympathetic look, then. "That must have been very difficult for you. It seems as though you value your flying highly. Would that be a fair assessment?" 

"It would." The lack of any obvious judgement is off-putting. Poe can't quite work out where this is going, but he certainly doesn't like it. "Flying is who I am, what I do. Without it… I got nothing."

"Why do you say that?" she pushes, just very gently. "What makes you feel that way?" 

"Because it's true," he answers, with a little shrug. "Flying's my thing. I've done it pretty much my whole life, and I'm good at it. But without it… sure, I'm a reasonable leader. Reasonable soldier. I can hit things when I fire a blaster and I'm decent at getting people to like me. But none of that's going to change the galaxy. And yet… put me in a ship, and give me a target, and Doc… I will show you magic."

"And you feel, somehow, that you are not a whole person without it? Your other goals and talents don't make you feel complete?"

Poe tries to count to five in his head before he answers. He makes it to three. "Honestly? No. Like I said, it's who I am. And I don't see anything wrong with that. I put it to good use. Always have."

The Bimm leans closer. "What would you do if flying were no longer an option for you?" 

"Try to find another way to be useful. As things stand now, probably join the Pathfinders. I wouldn't stop fighting for what I believe in. But… I wouldn't be _me_."

Should he say this? Probably not. But it's true. Or, it certainly feels that way inside his head.

She seems to be satisfied with that. "Would you like to tell me about a recent mission? What happened, and how you felt about it?" 

A recent mission. Oh good. So there's the one where they were swarm-attacked by Darksiders, the one where he assaulted a man who – apparently – surrendered in good faith, or the one where he had visions of himself and his lover taking over the galaxy.

Right. Because all of those paint him in a wonderful light.

Maybe he can get away with the most recent.

"Well, I just got back from one," he says, trying to sound nonchalant. "We had a lead on something we're trying to find, an ancient artefact of immense power. We went in search of it, but it was gone. Long gone, we think. But, whilst we were there, we ran into the Knights of Ren – the band of Darksiders my husband used to lead. There was… something of an altercation. And I had to watch him fight again. I _hate_ watching him fight. Well, no, that's not true, I _love_ watching him fight in principle, because it's freaking beautiful. But I hate watching him fight when I can't join in. Because I want to help."

Not because I'm some kind of maniac.

"So you felt powerless, again? Because you were not in your ship?" she asks, leaning a little closer to him. "Or for some other reason?" 

"Not powerless, no," Poe insists. "It's just a little frustrating. I'm not one of life's observers."

That is not the same as 'powerless', shush.

"So you wanted to be able to do more, but you felt you couldn't? Because of his abilities?" 

Poe holds up his hands. "I know what I can and can't do," he answers. "I know there's things I can do that Kylo can't. It works both ways. It's just frustrating, is all. I'm sure he'd say the same."

"Everyone feels that way, at times. It's how we handle the feeling that matters," she agrees. 

More flicking. "You said there were Darksiders there. People from your husband's past?"

Oh good. This now.

"Yes," is Poe's reply, level and careful. "The Knights of Ren. The Dark Side acolytes who used to be under the command of Supreme Leader Snoke." That name still tastes like ash – it always will – and Poe doesn't even try to hide his discomfort at mentioning it. "They're still working for the First Order against us. Kylo used to know them all well. He trained them for years."

"It is understandable that you do not like them. They must be a link to something you would rather was forgotten. Do you worry about their influence on your husband?" 

Poe doesn't have to think about this one. "I trust him completely," he says, not harsh, but certainly quick. "I don't for a single second think that they could sway him back. But… I know he feels pain and guilt over what happened to them, and that worries me, yes. Because I love him. Because he's suffered enough."

"What happened with these Knights? It looks from the brief notes I have that… I might be seeing one, later? There is someone with a surname 'Ren'?"

"Oh, Tovim? They're sending him to see you as well?" Poe replies, the words slipping out unchecked. "Good luck with that. I apologise in advance for his behaviour. He's a self-serving hedonist with a superiority complex. Very, very good at manipulating people's minds with the Force, though, so keep an eye on him. He defected in the middle of that last mission I mentioned, but honestly I think he only did it because he thought his lot were about to lose spectacularly. As it was… it ended up being more of a tie."

"So you don't believe his defection was genuine, then?" 

Poe has to concentrate not to laugh bitterly at this. "Not in the slightest. I don't think he's still flat-out working for them, but I do think he's only here because he thinks we're going to win. Because it serves _his_ interests. Not because he believes in what we're doing… you know, the things my friends and I are _literally_ ready to die for."

"And you're angry because you think he's riding on your jetstream?" she prompts. "You feel he doesn't deserve it?" 

"No." Flat and to the point. "The people on this base… all of them have given up everything to be here. Homes, lives, jobs, sometimes families. The whole deal. They live under constant threat of death – or _worse_ , and believe me, there is worse – with limited resources and no way of knowing if there will ever be an end in sight. Those that aren't old enough to have been part of the Rebellion still grew up around it. We'll take on anyone who shares our ideals and is ready to fight for them, and we don't discriminate. But Tovim? Tovim's here because he thinks we're now the stronger side. And if something changed his mind on that, he'd sell us out in a heartbeat, without the slightest flicker of guilt."

"It is a difficult thing, yes." Tamani sounds mournful when she says that, as though she does agree with it, and agree with it deeply. 

"Is there anything else you'd like to mention about the Knights?"

Poe is about to say no and hope they can move on. He doesn't want to discuss the Knights any further. He certainly doesn't want to risk going close to the part where he knows _full-well_ how Danika and Daria ended up in the group.

But… "There is one thing," he admits. Maybe he shouldn't; maybe he should stop this now before he says too much, but he doesn't. "We're supposed to save them. We're trying to save them. I promised Kylo I would help him. But… I'm scared that we can't. I'm scared that they're too far gone. I'm scared we'll never be able to pull them back and I worry about how that will make Kylo feel. Pulling _him_ back was challenging enough, and I had a lot of extra factors on my side when I did it. The others… I'm scared they're already out of our reach."

"Do you think that failure will impact negatively on his mood, or your relationship, or both? Do you think it could weaken his resolve?" 

"It won't damage our relationship," Poe answers, and his voice is soft now. "I don't even think it will affect his resolve. But… it will hurt him."

And I can't bear to see him suffer.

"Is there anything you feel you can do to mitigate, or mediate this pain? Something to minimise it? Or handle it if it does come to pass?"

"Find a way to achieve the impossible," Poe says. "Find a way to save them. Even one of them. One of them who _means it_. But how I do that…"

He holds up his hands again. "I can't exactly saunter off and have a pleasant conversation with them. All I can do is let this unfold, and be on the lookout for the slightest potential opening. Which isn't easy when, every time they lay eyes on each other, it ends in combat."

"You may need to find a way to handle the failure. It may be that you simply cannot save any of them. Do you have a plan for how you will handle that? How you will manage with how that makes you both feel?" 

"We haven't talked about it. Not really. I guess both of us would rather focus on believing we can do it. But… if the whole thing falls apart… we have each other. We will get through it. We got through literal hell. Everything else is… bearable, in comparison."

"Good. It is important to keep your lines of communication and support open. If you are honest with one another, it will go a long way." Tap. Tap tap tap. 

"Now: how do you feel about the most recent news from the Senate?"

Force fucking damn it. Being questioned by the First Order was easier than this. Poe gets up – slowly, ponderously, not like he's about to do anything rash – and paces to the window.

He needs the space.

"Not pleased," is his answer. "That the Resistance was disavowed is bad enough. After everything we've done for them, everything we've risked, all the sacrifices we've made…"

Poe bites his lip and closes his eyes for a moment. "When I lose one of my people, one of my pilots, I tell myself they died for the cause. I tell _everyone_ they died for the cause. Having the very Republic we're fighting for turn around and effectively say they died for _nothing_ … it hurts. And it's insulting."

A pace. Two. Three. Some of that pent-up energy starting to bleed out.

"And then there's the fact they flat-out declared several of us to be enemies of the state." Poe sounds wound, now. He tries to stamp it down, but he can't, not quite. "As if disavowing us wasn't bad enough, now we're _enemies_ , too. Leia Organa. Leia _freaking_ Organa. The woman is a _saint_. Were it not for her, this galaxy would be a churning Imperial hellpit, lorded over by a maniac and crushed of all hope. And her son? My husband? Don't even get me _started_ on Kylo. The things that man has endured would _shatter_ most people. If a single member of the Force-forsaken Senate could endure _five minutes_ of what my husband endured for nigh-on _thirty years_ , I would let them call us whatever the hell they liked. But they couldn't, and I know it for a fact, because not one of them could step to me and _I_ snapped in far less than five minutes."

This is much more of a response than before, and Tamani puts the tablet down to one side, watching him and waiting for him to conclude. It is best, of course, to let the things come out. "This is a safe space," she reminds him, her tone light and non-judgemental. "I can see that you feel very strongly on this matter. It seems to have affected you quite deeply. Am I right in thinking this is maybe your current, deepest concern?"

Poe breathes out. He knows he's said too much, but he also knows there's a lot he _hasn't_ said, and he's just got to hope he's held enough of it back.

He can't quite sit down again yet, though, so – for a moment – he stares out at the trees. He likes Tahanan. In many ways, he likes it more than D'Qar, because the trees – though small in comparison – remind him of Yavin 4.

He takes another deep breath.

"Yes," he says. "Losing the backing of the Republic is a serious matter. It leaves us fighting a war against a superior power with no legitimacy and no support, and there are words for people like that, and some of those words aren't good. But it's the betrayal that really stings. They can say what they like about me – I'm just a flyboy from nowhere special. But to say those things about these amazing people… it's wrong. It is _wrong_. And it hurts."

"And you don't think that this – although not the recognition you would like – shows that you are just as important as they are?" 

"No," is Poe's answer, and there's no bitterness in his tone. "The Senate didn't do this because I'm important. They did it to hurt Kylo, and Leia too. To make them feel attacked on all sides."

"I see things a little differently. You must be important, or you wouldn't be singled out. Do you think that either your husband or General Organa were named to upset the other?" 

Poe turns to look at Tamani again. "No. They were named because she is the leader of the Resistance, one of the heroes of the Rebellion, and he is her son. Her son who used to be de-facto 2IC of the entire First Order. Oh, and then there's the part where they're _Darth Vader's daughter and grandson_."

"And you? Your service record is exemplary. You brought back not only a Dark Side user, but several enemy ships, were key in the destruction of both the Starkiller and the… _Decimator_? And are the X-Wing squadron leader?" 

"All of that is true," Poe answers. "So, what? You gonna tell me I'm special? That I somehow belong in the top league with the Organa-Solo-Skywalkers?" A wry little smile. "You wouldn't be the first. And, heck, maybe I am. Maybe I do. Or… maybe I'm going to screw up spectacularly and have that much further to fall…"

And there's the fear again. The fear he fights not to engage with because he can't risk indulging it. Because it's easier if he doesn't. But…

"You want to talk about my successes? Everyone knows my successes. But I'm a Grey Sith, and we believe in balance, so let's indulge that and look at the flipside, shall we? I only brought Kylo back because I got myself captured in the first place, and were it not for the fact that my _astromech_ was the smartest person in the room, I likely would have been responsible for the First Order finding Luke Skywalker. And Starkiller? I screwed up my run against Starkiller. My whole _life_ , I had been waiting for that moment, and I screwed it up and had to be rescued by a man who _cannot fly_. And do not even get me _started_ on Supreme Leader Snoke. I nigh-on _handed_ Kylo back to him and then got to spend the next _month_ living in my own personal hell whilst the love of my life was repeatedly tortured. And yes, I got him back, but only by being complicit in the death of _Luke Skywalker_."

A pause. "You want to know what _really_ terrifies me? One of these days I am going to fuck up and I _won't_ get out of it in one piece."

Breathe. Consider running for the door. What happened to _not_ sounding like a crazy person?

"Do you think no one makes mistakes, Poe?" Tamani asks, using his first name deliberately. "Would you also like to look at your husband's record, or your mother-in-law's? If you believe in balance, why don't you tell me things they did wrong, as well as yourself?" 

Poe turns and paces back over, dropping heavily into the chair again. "I know the things they've done wrong. Leia sent her son away when he was still a _child_ , leaving him to fall completely under Snoke's sway when she should have been there for him. And Kylo? Do you know how many people he's killed? But we're not here to talk about them, are we? We're here because Kylo thinks I'm crazy, and this is the least obtrusive way to prove it."

He sits back, in exactly the way he does when he's just put his last pazaak card on the table, and is waiting to see the response.

"Do you think therapists only help 'crazy' people?" Tamani asks. 

"Nope. Not in the slightest. Doesn't mean it isn't the case here."

Another pause. He wants to pace again, but flitting back and forth will make him look even more indecisive, so he opts to stay where he is.

"Do _you_ think I'm crazy?" he asks, flatly. Might as well work out where things stand.

"I think you are under a lot of pressure, and much of that is self-inflicted." She smoothes down her fur, looking at her paw for a moment. "But do you think anyone would feel calm and no stress response if they were in your situation?" 

Poe headtilts. "I imagine most people would feel the same way, to some extent. I don't think any of my actions are excessive. Except maybe punching Tovim in the face. But that was mostly his fault anyway."

And the part where occasionally I have idle fantasies about helping my husband take over the galaxy. But don't say that one out loud.

"What made you punch him?" 

"He called me a masochist with a martyr complex." No, fuck, don't say that out loud either. "Which is pretty much what Kylo kept calling me right up until the point we… ah… weren't enemies anymore."

"So… did you feel he was flirting with you? Or did it make you feel uncomfortable about your actual relationship with your husband?" 

"I…" Poe is about to answer this, and then his mind sort of hits a wall and he stops for a moment. "Both, I guess. It was like he _knew_. He's incredibly skilled at reading people's thoughts through the Force. I think… part of me was scared he was in my head."

"And can your husband do the same thing?" 

"Yes." All the walls go up. It's there in Poe's demeanor, in his eyes, in his voice.

"How does that make you feel?"

"How does what make me feel? When Kylo does it? Or when I'm worried the maniac he brought home is doing it?"

"Both." 

Why doesn't therapy come with an ejector seat?

"…When Kylo does it, it feels amazing. When I'm worried the maniac he brought home is doing it, I want to punch him in the face. The maniac, I mean. Not my husband."

"What's the difference? Would you have felt the same way if you had met this Tovim first?" 

Maybe Poe should just move to Ahch-To and become a hermit. Maybe that would be easier.

"No. Not in the slightest. Kylo and I are bound through the Force. And he is a decent, selfless person who believes in things and fights for them. He's caring, loving, dedicated. _Loyal_. Tovim… goes with the tides, and only serves himself. If I had met _him_ first, it would either have ended with one of us dead, or both of us very far apart."

"And it would have been the former, because when I first met _Kylo_ I shot a blaster at his head and he froze the bolt in midair. And I don't think Tovim could pull that off."

"So it is his intrusion on something you see as personal and private – something which your relationship holds in high esteem – that drives your emotional response to him?"

"Yes. And the fact that I don't trust him. And the fact that I don't want him near my pilots."

And his face is eminently punchable. And… OK, don't say that part out loud either.

"You worry he will affect their minds?" 

"Yes." And hit on them. "And they're not used to dealing with that. And even if you _are_ used to dealing with it, it's pretty much impossible to fight if you don't have the Force."

"Do you have any methods of mitigating this problem? Or could you think of some?" 

"Well, I punched him in the face." Possibly Poe is a little hung-up on this. "And I warned everyone to be careful around him, and to keep a watch on each other in case anyone started acting strange. And also Kylo told him he'd end up locked in a tiny cell if he misbehaved."

"Does that put your mind at ease?" 

Does my mind look at ease?

"Slightly. Not enough. Not when I have everything else to be dealing with as well. Hence the agitation."

"Is there anything you can reasonably do, or ask others to do, that would help?" 

"Not that I haven't already. Just got to see how this plays out, now." A little shrug. "It is what it is. I'll deal. I always do."

On account of being completely not crazy.

"I see." She nods. "Is there anything else you would like to discuss? Anything you feel I could help you with?" 

"Honestly?" Sensible, rational voice. Ish. "No. I just gotta get through it and not lose sight of what I'm fighting for, and why."

"Do you think that being able to talk to me in future – in confidence, and without anyone knowing – might benefit you in any way?" 

"I guess it might." Poe still isn't sold on the idea, but a flat 'no' would seem arrogant and hostile, and he doesn't want that. Plus, sometimes it's wise to keep all your options open.

"I would like to see you once a week, for the time being. Not 'because you are crazy', but because you are under a lot of pressure, and I am here to help reduce that, if possible." 

Fuck.

Fuck.

Way to go, Dameron.

"All right. If you think it's necessary."

"I think it would be beneficial, don't you?" 

I think I'm already under enough pressure as it is.

"I bow to your judgement."

"I'll send you my calendar, and you can book available slots with me. I can be flexible about times, but I would say no more than eight days between each session." 

When I'm not fighting a war against massive opposing forces whilst the rest of the galaxy sits back and insults everything I stand for, I'll be sure to find the time.

"…I'll keep that in mind."

"Now, thank you for your time, Commander. I hope you feel much better by the next time we speak." 

"As do I, Doc. As do I…"


	22. Extrospection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! We're back with our next chapter, which features - amongst other things - some more hints about where we're going with Hux's plotline. Because we haven't forgotten about him. Oh no. Don't you worry... ;-)

Kylo isn't sure if it's a good thing, keeping Tovim in this particular unit. It's a little away from the hurly burly of the main residential compound, so he doesn't get the footfall in front of his door, but it does put him as neighbour to a certain General Organa, her husband, and their Wookiee best friend.

And whilst Kylo is sure that his mother can handle Tovim in a battle of wills, and Chewie was never even swayed to give extra cookies by a young Ben (without him resorting to the Big Eyes technique), Han…

Han Solo has never been fond of the mental aspect of Force-sensitivity, it's fair to say. And since Kylo's learned (at last) how to block most thoughts out that he doesn't want to listen to (or shouldn't listen to, for that matter), things have improved between them. Tovim, however, will have no qualms whatsoever about sneaking into people's minds.

He won't get anything from Leia, but he could get classified war information from Han, or sensitive personal information. And his father will not be impressed. But it's that or have him potentially fuck with the rest of the base, and they can't exactly put him in a cage in the woods like Poe suggested.

Tovim is in when Kylo goes to visit. Tovim is always in, at the moment. He's even having his meals brought to him. They can't risk letting him wander the base for now, and he can't interfere with the droids who service his home or fetch and carry his meals. There's no holonet access, meaning all he has are books and shows that are stored in the libraries of the house itself.

Kylo would go mad under those circumstances, before long. He's sure Tovim will, too.

"Gotta say, you treat your prisoners of war well, Kylo."

"We're the good guys, remember?" He's not going to rise to the bait. They both know this isn't freedom, even if it isn't being under formal arrest. 

"Yeah. So you keep telling me. You come to check I'm not having too much fun?"

"I've come to discuss some ground rules with you."

The place is nice enough. Definitely bigger than most of the pilots have, because it's out by the command block housing. He and Poe live on the other edge, which is yet _more_ reason to keep Tovim here.

Away from Poe.

"Shoot. I'm listening."

Kylo perches on one of the stools at the breakfast counter, waiting for Tovim to join him. It's weird, sitting face to face. They rarely saw one another unmasked, back when they were Knights of Ren. He'd seen Tovim's face, but they didn't habitually spend much time out of their helmets. 

Tovim's taken to being barefaced more readily than Kylo had. Of course. 

"We need to establish some things you can, and cannot do. And draw up an agreement, with consequences for… transgressing."

"Kylo… I'm not a kid, you know."

"I know. That's why I'm discussing this with you." He wishes he didn't have to, that someone else could do this, but if he really wants to try to improve the lives of his former Knights… he has to step up to the plate. 

"I get it. If I mess with people's minds, or cause a scene, you'll bang me up in here and take away my porn."

There's porn? Why is Kylo unsurprised that Tovim found it, if so? "You can't threaten or imply that you'll mess with minds, either. You aren't to make unwanted sexual overtures. You're not to cause dissent, and you're expected to behave like a model citizen. Even if you aren't one."

"…what if the sexual overtures are wanted? Or… how will I know if they are or not, until I try?"

"If you can't work out how to subtly gauge interest, you're not mature enough to be making those advances in the first place," Kylo snaps, a little more sharply than he meant.

"You know, I think I kinda liked the old Kylo more. Even if this one runs around without his mask and – got married? You were more fun before."

"I was also deeply unhappy and morally bankrupt." Maybe not bankrupt, so much as borrowing heavily. 

"But you were _fun_."

"Tovim, you are the one who asked to join us. Are you regretting that choice?"

"…am I regretting being banged up in here? Yeah. No offence meant, but this kind of blows."

"We can't trust you, not yet."

"They lock you up like this when you ran away from Snoke?"

No, no they didn't. But there'd been extenuating circumstances in his case: a pilot willing to vouch for him, and a planet-destroying weapon taken down as a peace offering. "They were not convinced. To begin with. I had shown my willingness to reform, however, and they allowed me the space to prove myself."

"Yeah, well. What if I don't want to reform?" The younger man's fingers dance intricately over the counter-top. "Kinda like being me."

"Then _why_ did you come?"

"Like I said: like being me. Figured eventually you guys would probably win. Would like to continue being me. I wasn't really sworn to their side, either, so it's not like you have to believe I'm still bad."

"No… you're just the same as you ever were, aren't you?"

"Yep. And I can be that me, here. Sure, I won't believe in your cause. Won't cry myself to sleep at night thinking of the children. But I _can_ fight, and wouldn't you rather one less of them, and one more of you?"

Kylo can see he has a point, and that is the worst part. It does even the odds a little more: three against five is better than two against six. 

"How could we ever trust you?"

"You can. You can trust that I'm true to me. I'm true to my continued existence. And if you guys win and I don't side with you, I'll be… at best? Dead. At worst? In a real cell. But if you guys win and I'm on your side… what reason have you got to come after me?"

Plenty. Plenty of crimes on both their heads, really. Kylo could reel them off for hours. 

The blond man leans onto his hands, too close for comfort. "You just don't like the thought that someone might not give a shit about Light, Dark, Good, Evil… do you?"

"It's… troubling to me, I won't lie."

"How many people do you think… really care? I mean: really, truly, deeply? You think most of those people you're fighting for give two shits?"

They don't, and that's the current problem, Kylo thinks to himself. They're too happy to write the Resistance off as criminals than face up to the very, very real threat posed by Hux's First Order. 

But then, also… can he really blame impartial people? Truly impartial? Not… really. Although most impartial people haven't been mass-murdering Dark Side users. 

"You're never going to change, I know. But… do you think you can at least live by the rules? Because I'm going to find it hard to have your back if you don't."

"I can live by rules that make sense… can't suddenly give two shits about the Light, or whatever… but I can play nice. If I get… you know."

"We'll increase your freedom by degrees. There's plenty on this base who would gladly see you given enough rope to hang yourself with, but you already know that."

"Your husband packs quite a punch for a little guy." 

Kylo bites his lip. He could say a lot, but… no. Breathe. Be the bigger man. "You're also to report for psych eval. We're all going through it. Do not fuck with the psych."

"…fuck with, or 'fuck'?"

"You really want to try tapping that, feel free. But I'll be hacking in to read her assessment of you afterwards."

"…that bad, huh?"

"Let's just say I don't think she's your type. Far, far too short."

"…never say never."

***

Poe doesn't say much to anybody about what was discussed during his psych-eval.

He'd rather not. If he does, that will mean he has to think about it.

After a couple of days, most of the pilots have been to sessions of their own, with… mixed results. The first Poe really hears about it is the evening of the second day, when he comes across four of them talking in the shadow of Snap's X-Wing.

Or, more accurately, Jess and Karé in something close to hysterical laughter, leaning on each other whilst Snap faux-glowers at them and Iolo tries to act like a grown-up.

"Dare I ask?" Poe says, walking over.

The second Jess and Karé see him, their attempts to calm down immediately fail and they start laughing again.

Poe looks between them. "Did I miss something?"

" _Apparently_ ," Iolo starts out – continuing his sensible-grown-up impression – "Snap's psych-eval was something of an experience."

"An experience!" Snap repeats. "An _experience_?!"

Jess manages to calm down enough to speak, draping an arm around her boyfriend's shoulders and patting him lovingly on the chest. "It's OK, Temmin, it's OK. You're safe now."

Karé stifles another giggle.

"Is someone going to fill me in?" Poe prompts.

Snap looks at Jess. Then he tries looking at Karé. Then Iolo. Then… anywhere but Poe.

The shorter man folds his arms. "Out with it, Wexley," he says.

"It was completely not my fault," Snap insists. "I was trying to do you a favour! You seemed so _down_ after your session and you wouldn't tell me why and you _know_ I can tell when you get like that because it isn't very often and I notice these things and –"

"…Seriously, man, breathe at some point, would you?" Karé implores.

"Do I have to threaten you all with orbital manoeuvres again?" Poe pushes, just about managing to keep a straight face. "Because I will. Really difficult ones. And you know Bastian hates them and I _will_ tell him who's to blame…"

"All right, all right!" Snap concedes, holding up his hands. "So, anyway, when it was my turn to go for eval, I guess maybe I spent a bit too much time trying to convince Doctor Tamani that _you_ were fine."

"…Me?" Poe has to fight the urge to facepalm. "You spent most of your eval talking about _me_?"

"Not most of it! Just a bit too much of it!"

Jess starts to giggle again. Karé gestures encouragingly at Snap. "Tell our esteemed commander the best part!"

Snap actually goes slightly pink. Given that this is a man who has – on more than one occasion – played strip-pazaak in _public_ , this is somewhat significant.

"…She said some things to me. Lots of things. They… may have included the words 'co-dependent tendencies'."

Poe manages to hold his expression for about five seconds before he too is laughing, which gets him one of those wholly unconvincing glowers from Snap.

"Don't you start!" Snap says, desperately. "It's bad enough with these two."

Iolo gives a little wave. "Three," he says.

"Three!" Snap repeats. "Maker!"

"Doc _does_ have a point," Poe remarks. "I mean, you did spend half your therapy session talking about me…"

"Because I was worried!" The taller man has now gone slightly high-pitched. Given that he is eminently unflappable, it is all shades of funny to see him flapped. "You did your whole serious-face thing, and then the whole broody-staring-at-trees-thing, and then you went off flying again, and… I have actually overthought this, haven't I?"

"Just a little, sweetie, yes," Jess tells him, giving him another pat on the chest.

"Am I to assume that the _rest_ of you behaved yourselves, at least?" Poe tries, starting to think it might be a slim hope.

"Well…" Karé starts off, unconvincingly.

"Maybe…" Jess says, even more so.

"… _I_ did," Iolo points out, which makes Karé pat him on the shoulder.

Then she grins. "…OK, so possibly I had a little too much fun with the inkblot test…"

"Wait, you got the inkblot test?" Poe says, confused. "I just talked for what felt like forever. By the end, I wondered if I needed a lawyer present."

"Oh, I got the inkblots too," Snap adds. "I just insisted they were all different types of ship. I think maybe that's why she ended up saying… you know, the co-dependent thing… Because possibly I was misbehaving a little."

"I turned them all into a metaphor for something else," Karé says, with a mischievous grin. "Flying, fighting, sex… I think there might have been something about chocolate in there… some more sex… oh, and trees."

"Trees?" Jess repeats.

"Yeah, trees. That big window in the room? I spent half the time staring at the trees."

Iolo goes even more quiet. Poe doesn't dare ask. Possibly because, with _his_ track record in that area, he has no right to. Or, certainly shouldn't risk it.

"Makes sense," Jess agrees, with a knowing grin. "I didn't get inkblots, but I did get word-association. Apparently I think about fighting a great deal…"

Poe claps a hand over his eyes for a moment. "OK. So for my top command team, I've got a sex maniac, a maniac maniac, and Captain Co-Dependent."

"And me," Iolo adds, with a little wave of the hand, and a tiny smirk. Iolo Arana is like a ship with no lasers but a full complement of torpedoes. Doesn't shoot often, but when he does, he never misses.

"…And Iolo," Poe manages.

"Yep," Snap says. "Looks like it. Aren't you lucky?"

"If I say 'no', will you have a crisis and need more therapy?"

"No promises…"

At this point – and before Poe can speak again – Nien Numb comes running up, skidding to a halt and doubling-over, hands on his knees, laughing a great deal and talking very fast in between. Poe understands Sullustian pretty well, but it's tricky when the person speaking it is nearly in hysterics.

He thinks quickly, trying to remember who _hasn't_ been for their psych-eval yet, and then stops dead. "…It's Bastian, right?"

Nien manages to stand up, but he's still laughing a _lot_. Either way, the nodding is answer enough.

"What did he do?"

" _I'm not sure how it happened_ ," Nien replies, in slightly calmer Sullustian that Poe can understand. " _But you can ask him yourself. Once he's out of the tree._ "

Poe turns and thunks his head against the hull of the X-Wing. Some days, you just can't win.

***

It's later on.

By now, the sun has set, and one of Tahanan's moons is shimmering two-thirds full in the dark sky. The base is finally quiet – the high-spirits of the evening having finally subsided – and Poe is currently sitting up on top of his own X-Wing, staring at the stars.

There's a metallic sound beneath him: someone clapping a hand to the hull.

It's Snap. "Room for one more?"

Poe grins. "So long as you don't tell your therapist."

"We're not letting this go, are we?"

"Nope. Not for quite a while."

"I figured."

Snap scrambles up to join him. "You all right?"

Poe gives him a wry smile. "Yes, actually. An evening of trying to convince everyone the people I work with are sensible adults – against all evidence to the contrary – was just what I needed. And I mean that genuinely. Plus you'd know if I was lying."

"You bet your ass I would. Although, I have to ask… is Kylo going to kill me?"

"What, for the co-dependency thing? Please. He'll probably ask why it took you so long to work it out." Poe manages not to laugh for about five seconds, then loses it and claps the other man on the shoulder. "Seriously, Snap, it's all good. Though maybe next time you get a psych-eval, try to talk about _yourself_ more. Y'know. Learning point."

"Yeah, thanks, Commander."

"You're welcome, Captain."

They sit in silence for a moment, Poe staring at the stars, and Snap now looking down at the outside of the X-Wing's engine.

"…You know your thermal vents are slightly out of alignment, right?"

Poe looks down too. "You can tell just by staring at them from here?"

"Sure I can. You see that one, there? On the left? See how it's ever-so-slightly tilted?"

"I wish I had your eyes. I'll have to deal with it in the morning."

"Should be an easy fix," Snap points out. "I can try now, if you want."

"Snap, we remember how you're not allowed to play with the engines on my ship?" Poe says, grinning.

"That was one time, you weren't using it, and I was trying to prove a point."

"You were _trying_ to hold a barbecue!"

"So? You were new. We thought it would make you like us."

"I already liked you! And I continued to like you just fine! After we put the fire out."

"Yeah." Snap looks wistful. "You know all of us are looking out for you, right? Not just me."

"Yes. I know."

"What the Republic said about you and Kylo and General Organa… it's a downright disgrace. But all of us are with you, no matter what. There's not a pilot on this base who wouldn't follow you into a black hole if you asked."

Poe smiles. "I know, Snap." And he does. It's one of the few things keeping him going.

"Although," he adds, "if I _do_ ask you to follow me even _close_ to a black hole, maybe don't do that. And maybe tell me to stop."

"Oh, absolutely, you got it," Snap promises, grinning. "We're loyal, not dumb."

"Good. Because I am not Han Solo, and this is not the Kessel Run."

A pause. "You _really_ want to try that, don't you?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

They're silent for another moment.

"Poe?" Snap says, finally.

"Hmm?"

"Go find your husband. Sitting up here all night isn't going to make things any different."

"I know."

"And he'll make you feel better." A beat. "Just try to keep the screaming down."

"There is so very much wrong with you, Wexley," Poe says, as he clambers off the X-Wing. "I'll see you in the morning. And stay away from my poor baby's engines!"

Snap pats _Darth One_ lovingly. "No promises…"

***

Hidden in deep space, a large station hangs in the dark.

The station in question is called Arkanis Prime, named after the planet Arkanis. The planet where – for much of his life – General Hux was raised. The planet where his father's academy was located.

The Arkanis Academy. In many ways, this station is the _new_ Arkanis Academy, although technically it is one of three stations to fulfill the role – the others being Beta and Gamma – and it is one of Hux's proudest achievements. Here is where they run the intensive training programmes that produce the First Order's Stormtroopers, using ideas formulated by Brendol Hux himself, and passed on to – and further developed by – his only son.

The _Finalizer_ comes here often, to allow General Hux – and Captain Phasma – to conduct inspections, to ensure that the training continues at pace. To guarantee the loyalty of the next batch of troopers.

It is for this reason that they are here now, and under normal circumstances Hux would relish the opportunity to go aboard Arkanis Prime, to observe proceedings and watch his father's legacy in action.

But not today. He's known today would be difficult ever since Daria Ren turned up at his office, to ask if she could accompany him on the next inspection.

Hux couldn't justify saying no. They're supposed to be allies.

But he is not pleased about the prospect. The only saving grace in all of this is that – for once – he's getting the Good Twin. Or… no. The Less Irritating Twin.

The General heads down to Bay One, where there's a shuttle waiting to take him and Daria over to the station. Mercifully, Captain Phasma is joining them, which at least means Hux won't have to endure his Dark Side guest wholly on his own. He does not like her. Or any of them. Or what they stand for. Or…

…No. No. Focus. All for the cause. For the **Order**.

_For the Empire_.

When he reaches the hangar bay, Hux finds Phasma already waiting – not a surprise – and no sign of Daria Ren.

Also not a surprise.

He steps up to the silver-clad woman's side. "Captain."

"General," she replies, with the slightest of inclinations of her chrome-sheened helmet. It is just the right side of obsequious, always respectful of their relative rank. The tall woman, for once, does not have a weapon in her hands.

But she's carrying many of them, just in case. 

"You are aware we have a guest joining us this time? Daria Ren. Apparently she and her Force-using friends are interested in learning how to run a facility of this kind." Hux doesn't hide his displeasure, not in front of Phasma. "We'll let her look around, but keep an eye on her. Under no circumstances do I want that woman wandering about _my_ academy unchecked."

"Understood. May I ask why her sudden interest, Sir?" 

"A good question," Hux replies. "When _I_ asked it, she said something about a plan to establish an academy for Force-sensitives, to school them in the use of the Dark Side. Apparently, they're under the impression that this crystal they're obsessed with finding will immediately summon an army to their sides, and they want to work out the kind of infrastructure they will require."

"I see." Phasma's tone betrays nothing of her reaction to the prospect of an army of Force-sensitives, but it doesn't really need to. "Would you like to shift the focus to – or away from – any… elements in particular?" 

"She will need to see enough of it to believe she has seen all of it," Hux reasons. "That being said… the less she sees of our conditioning methods, the better." And not just because they're an old family secret. "I would also prefer she not spend too long in Recruitment and Logistics. I don't want her getting any ideas about trying to form a _non_ -Force-using segment to this army of theirs."

And she might, if she realises how easily it can be done, with the right infrastructure and proper planning.

"Understood." It should be easy enough. They have plenty of parts that will pad out a visit: weapons and bodily conditioning. Domestics and the like. Yes. She can tailor their itinerary. 

"Is there anything else I need to know?" 

"No," Hux replies. "I am sure I can count on you to keep this interfering Force-user from seeing _too_ much."

If I thought I could get away with it, I'd have you throw her out an airlock halfway round… but no. No. _Patience_.

Hux has barely finished speaking before the elevator doors swish open, and Daria Ren comes striding over. She has much the same air that Kylo always did, albeit somewhat… shorter.

"Lady Ren," Hux greets her, tone clipped and to the point. "We were beginning to wonder where you were."

"I had matters to attend to," Daria answers, her own – modified – voice easy in the response.

Even behind her helmet, it's obvious the young woman's attention has just flitted over to Phasma. "Captain," she says. "Will you be joining us?"

"I will," Phasma says, nodding a little less obviously towards her. She looms over both of them, but especially over Daria. 

There's the slightest flicker of alarm in Daria's posture, but it's only visible to someone paying careful attention. Which Hux is.

"I see," Daria answers. "That will be helpful. No doubt your expertise and input will be valuable."

"Would you like me to commence?" Phasma asks. Hux. She does not ask Daria. 

"The shuttle is waiting to take us over," Hux replies. "If you give our guest an overview en route, I will demonstrate the facilities, when we arrive."

Wanting to get moving, he gestures for them to board the ship in question – an Upsilon-class shuttle named the _Commandant_ – well-aware that Phasma, at least, can do two things at once.

The pilot waits for the cue before starting the ship off, and Phasma stands at polite attention as it does so.

"As you may be aware, we have three facilities in deep space. They are precise replicas of the other, and knowledge of this is reserved. Troopers believe they all came from the same facility." A safety net, of sorts. 

If nothing else, it's obvious Daria is paying careful attention. "I see," she answers. "So they spend their entire lives here until they are moved to active duty?"

"Yes. We run test simulations with them here, before we put them in active service aboard one of our craft. They do not get 'shore leave', if that is what you are asking?" 

"Partially, yes," Daria replies. "How do you ensure their focus remains absolute? Even on a large station, the confinement must have… consequences."

She paces to the front of the main cockpit as she speaks, close to where the pilot is sitting, staring out the central window and watching as the _Commandant_ arcs out of the hangar bay and turns towards Arkanis Prime: a large, circular space station with four distinct wings and a spherical central module.

"There are no distractions," Phasma replies, her tone a little… icy when she says it. "Their devotion is absolute." 

Absolute, until they need reconditioning. She does not say this, however.

Daria headtilts. "Absolute? How do you ensure such a thing without Force-manipulation?"

Hux digs his fingernails into his palms at that, having to concentrate hard not to say anything. At least he can count on Phasma to have a suitable response.

"Our cause is worth it," Phasma replies, smoothly. "Don't you agree?" 

That makes Hux smirk a little, though only when he's sure Daria won't be able to see.

"Of course," Daria answers, sounding ever-so-slightly thrown. "But… few people are convinced one hundred percent of the time."

"Then we convince them, by showing them the goal we strive for." The Captain nods towards the viewscreen. "As you will see. We educate them about military history, and the Republic's flaws." 

Daria nods. "That makes sense. There are so many to choose from…"

Hux hates it when they agree on things. It feels _wrong_ , somehow.

The young Darksider turns from the window and back to Phasma. "Do you have to contend with much dissention?"

"No." It is true. They stomp out signs of disorderly thought long before it comes to fruition. "We have a very tight control over them. We monitor them regularly." 

"Your success rate does seem to be particularly high," Daria agrees. "With the occasional exception…"

It doesn't take a genius to realise she's talking about FN-2187. Whether the provocation was deliberate or offhand, though, is harder to judge.

"There are always exceptions. Surely one of seven is more significant than one of several hundred thousand?" Phasma replies, just as quickly. 

Hux can practically _hear_ Daria's eyes narrowing at that.

"It is always more significant when a Force-user is involved," the Darksider answers. It's actually a good save, but the effect is lost somewhat due to the obvious irritation in Daria's voice. "Hence why I am here. To improve our methods."

"Quite." Just one word, but Phasma puts so much more into it. "We should be grateful that we have only lost… two? Or do we count the Leader as a third?" 

"The Leader did not betray us," Daria nigh-enough snaps. "He was murdered. _He_ is the one who was betrayed. As for the other two… Kylo was a loss, it's true." This does not sound like something Daria would dare say in front of her sister. "But Tovim barely counts."

"I see. I thought all Force-users were significant?" Phasma says it oh so very lightly. 

Daria manages to glower at Phasma from behind her helmet. "They are. But some more than others. If you had to _choose_ one to lose, it would have been Tovim. Because of _tactics_."

Hux has to suppress a laugh at that. "We're coming up on the station," he says, giving Phasma a look over the top of Daria's head.

"Sir," Phasma says, apparently now ignoring Daria utterly. "I shall make sure the facility is prepared to accept us." 

"Thank you, Captain," Hux replies, pointedly.

Daria doesn't speak again, and Hux wonders if she's sulking. It would be an appropriate response, all things considered. Few people stand a chance against Phasma when she's on a roll.

Their clearance granted, the _Commandant_ swoops in through the main hangar bay doors of Arkanis Prime, coming to a smooth halt on the deckplates.

Hux gestures in the direction of the rear hatch. "Shall we?"

The three of them step out into the hangar. It's high and broad, much like the ones on the _Finalizer_ , and is a similar hub of activity. Several squadrons of TIE-Fighters are lined up on launch ramps, and there are a number of other small ships here as well. They serve a dual purpose: training, for the most part, but also defence, should it ever be needed.

"This way," Hux says, leading them off. "We will start in the main barracks, and work our way through."

"How many trainees does the station even hold?" Daria asks, trying to keep up with the General's long strides.

"Several thousand," Hux answers. True, without being specific. He doesn't want to give _everything_ away.

"Of all stages, and ages," Phasma adds. 

Daria looks sideways at them. "You have children here?"

Hux nods. "We do. The majority of our troopers are trained from birth. It is the best way to ensure loyalty. Of course, it took time to establish, but the end results speak for themselves."

"Where do you get them from?"

Is that a little waver in her voice? Interesting. Hux makes a mental note.

"Many worlds, across the galaxy," he answers. "All human, of course."

The First Order does not consort with _aliens_.

The three of them step out of the hangar bay and into the passageways beyond. The aesthetic is much the same as a Star Destroyer – Hux has always preferred uniformity – and they follow a short route down into one of the main barracks.

Inside, the room is a hub of activity, filled with a group of adult trainees – Hux is sure these will be the next to complete the programme and receive their postings. The proto-troopers, a mixture of women and men, are obviously midway between sessions, but they jump into action as soon as the General enters, forming two neat rows – one on either side of the central aisle – and snapping to rigid attention.

"Present yourselves for inspection," the Captain says, her voice barking the command with sure efficiency. 

Slowly, almost ponderously, Hux paces down the central aisle, eyes sliding over the trainees to left and right. "Our people are exceptionally loyal," he says to Daria, who is following at his side. "Each is trained to fight and to die without question. If I ordered any one of them to kill you, right now, they would."

"They would _try_ ," Daria points out, defensively. The air goes subtly cold and Hux suppresses his usual reaction to the Force in favour of filing Daria's response away for later, along with the others.

"Yes," Hux responds, easily, as if everything was an idle hypothetical, rather than a very real threat. "They would try. If I ordered them _all_ to do it, the response would be the same."

"Your point, General?" Daria demands.

"That the Arkanis Method is the best there is," Hux says, smoothly.

"That is why you are here, is it not?" Phasma adds. 

"Yes," Daria says, perhaps a tiny bit shortly. "It is. The First Order's methods are famed for their effectiveness."

Irritated to ingratiating in two sentences. Interesting.

"The method was developed by my father, Brendol Hux," the General explains, deciding to go for broke. To show Daria what she's walked into. "An Imperial Commandant. It was used to produce many of the Empire's elite troops, and now it is used to produce _all_ of the First Order's troops."

All of whom are elite, is the implication.

"Danika told me about him," Daria replies. "I looked him up. Apparently, he was one of the Emperor's favourites."

"He was." Now what is she playing at? "This way. We will be able to witness some of the training first-hand."

And Hux leads them to the far end of the barracks, and out of the door.

Phasma strides ahead. Not because she considers herself more important, but because she wants to make sure everyone is ready for the General's entrance a moment behind her. 

The closest training hall is vast – at least twice the size of the hangar bay they landed in – and is currently occupied by several groups. A unit of older trainees dressed in black jumpsuits runs past in tight formation, evidently doing laps on a track that spans the width of the hall. Off to the left, two rows of trainees in their mid-teens are engaged in hand-to-hand combat, fighting in pairs whilst their tutor watches. And, to the right, another group is carrying out a marksmanship exercise, shooting at targets with low-power training blasters, the electric whine cutting the air at regular intervals.

"A large portion of each trainee's day is taken up by physical activity," Hux explains, gesturing to the hall as a whole. "They are taught to fight, to shoot, to work as a unit. Strength and endurance are paramount. There can be no room for weakness or hesitation."

"Would you like a particular demonstration?" Phasma asks. 

Daria's attention is obviously most drawn by the duelling pairs. "Them," she says, gesturing. "Show me what they can do."

The Captain addresses the group in crisp tones, ordering them to take the centre of the arena. She gives them a series of abrupt codes and commands, and steps back.

At once, the two groups move as one. They fall into step with impressive synchronicity: blow, block, blow, counter. The start of the routine is clearly scripted, and increasing in ferocity. Then she barks out the start of the free-form element and all hell breaks loose as they all strive to win, no matter the cost. 

Hux watches approvingly. He has to admit, he too finds this part compelling to watch. The organisation, the dedication, the **focus**.

_…block left, turn, feint, upper-cut, right, stomach, solar-plexus, jaw…_

The _**memory**_.

"Impressive," Daria says, and if she's picked up on Hux's momentary shift in mood, it doesn't show. "Most impressive. Their form is excellent."

Phasma barks another order, and they snap from their fighting poses and movements right back into line as if it never broke. 

"…As is their discipline," Daria adds. "You train all your troops to this level?"

"All of them, yes," Hux answers. "Those who excel beyond the baseline are considered for officer training once they have served on active duty. But, of course, this is just a small part of what we do here. Our tour has barely started…"

***

They spend quite some time within Arkanis Prime, viewing more of the training activities – including the special programme for those singled out as potential TIE pilots – as well as the infrastructure. They avoid most of the conditioning facilities, Hux still not wanting to let Daria see any of those processes, and either the woman chooses not to question it, or she doesn't notice the omission at all.

And then… the grand finale. Not the most _impressive_ part by any means, no, but certainly the one that will leave the greatest impress _ion_.

"Our final stop is the Juvenile Unit," Hux explains, as they head down towards it. "Trainees are taught as adults from seventeen, and teenagers from eleven. Prior to that… they are based here."

The door ahead swishes open, admitting them to a glass-walled passageway that skirts around the edge of another large training room. From it, they can see down into the room, where groups of children are participating in combat exercises. These groups are slightly smaller than the adult ones, and overseen by two tutors at a time, but otherwise… they look like the older groups in miniature.

And they are miniature. One of the groups in the room is made up of six-year-olds.

Daria stops dead, staring at them, and Hux knows he's judged this right.

"…They're so… little," the young Darksider breathes.

"The younger ones are more malleable," Phasma says, no hint of an emotional response in _her_ voice. "Once they are capable of reading, of course. If we get them before then it is a lot more investment than we prefer." 

"They're… _children_." Daria is obviously stuck on this point.

Hux nods. "Yes. As the Captain says, the training is much more effective if we start very young. It greatly reduces the risk of any _other_ formative thoughts being in their minds, before we introduce our own."

A beat. "This bothers you?"

"No," Daria insists, which is an obvious lie.

"I thought it would seem first-nature to a Force-user," Hux goes on, smoothly. "I realise you and your compatriots are not Jedi, but _their_ training programmes also began in infancy, did they not?"

"…They did."

Hux gestures idly to the young trainees. "There is little on which the Jedi and I could agree, but starting early is one such thing." Another beat. Daria is much easier to play than Danika. More thoughtful, with obvious emotional chinks in her armour. "If the Knights of Ren plan on establishing a facility of their own, you would most likely need to adopt a similar practice."

"Indeed, perhaps you would even go for younger. After all, you don't want them reading seditious materials in their early years, Lady Ren?" Phasma glances to Hux, then back to Daria. 

"No. No." A beat. "A good point, Captain."

Daria's discomfort is now impossible to miss. Hux continues as if he hasn't noticed.

"The juvenile years are arguably the most important," he goes on. "They can also be the most challenging. Discipline must be rigidly enforced, to ensure the trainees' minds remain focused."

Hux can't help thinking they still have it easy. The station is in impeccable condition, and climate-controlled, and its location – in the literal middle of nowhere – means that regular planet-based operations are out of the question. No ten-mile runs in the hot rain for _these_ six-year-olds…

At the back of his mind, he can still hear the thunder.

" _Well_ ," Hux says, "I believe that concludes my inspection – and your tour. I must make a brief return to the operations centre to sign all the requisite paperwork. Captain Phasma, please see our guest back to the hangar bay. I will join you shortly."

And as they go, the change in Daria Ren's demeanour is obvious. Hux had guessed that showing her the children would have an effect, but the extent of it has taken him by surprise.

One thing is for sure: he's gained a valuable piece of ammunition here today. A valuable piece of ammunition, and new insight into his wayward allies.

And it's true, what they say.

Knowledge is power.


	23. Bloodlines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salutations, one and all. We're back with our next chapter, in which our heroes receive some unexpected news, and our not-heroes receive some even _more_ unexpected news.
> 
> Hux fans, brace yourselves. The wholly-not-good General is about to get some major plot.
> 
> Enjoy!

It's mid-morning on Tahanan and – so far – things have been quiet. Across the base, daily tasks are carried out, the Pathfinders train, the pilots work on their ships.

It is almost – almost – too quiet. Although you should never think this, because the universe listens, and the Force doubly-so.

Poe is in the central command bunker, going over some things with the tech staff, when the proximity alarms go off, and suddenly everyone is on high alert, scrambling to their stations.

"Report?" he says, stepping up to the young man at the nearest console.

"A ship has just dropped out of hyperspace," the man in question answers. "We don't have any scheduled arrivals. It isn't one of ours."

"Hail them," Poe replies. "Tell them to flash their idents immediately."

"It's… oh." The young man goes quiet for a moment, examining the transponder readings that are already coming through. "No cause for concern, Commander. It's Maz Kanata."

Poe can't help thinking that this is every cause for concern. Much as he likes Maz, her appearances tend to coincide with major and not at all enjoyable events.

"Give her landing clearance," he instructs. "And get a message to General Organa. I'm going to find Kylo."

And he heads out at once, in search of his husband, wondering what their visitor has in store for them this time.

***

Kylo and Rey are training with complicated katas when Poe finds them. He can sense Poe's discomfort radiating off him (sadly not unusual at the moment) and he nods and thanks Rey, letting her de-ignite her sabre and come forwards to see what Poe has to say.

"You have that face you do when something's not going well," Kylo says, head to one side. "What is it?"

"There's a ship incoming," Poe answers. "It's Maz Kanata. I'm not sure why, yet, but she's back. Ground Control gave her landing clearance, so she should be down in a couple of minutes, and I get the feeling she might be here to see one or more of us again."

He doesn't hide his alarm at the thought, but – either way – he wants to know precisely what's going on.

"It could be good news," Rey suggests, putting a hand on Poe's shoulder, obviously trying to reassure him.

"Yes," he concedes. "It could."

"We should go see what she has to say." Kylo hopes it's good – or at least actionable – news, but even that would be a mixed blessing. He remembers the last time Maz showed up, after all. "Have you let my parents, your father, and Finn know?"

"I sent a runner to inform your mother," Poe replies. "But we should find Finn before we head down to the landing pad."

This shouldn't be difficult, as Finn will no doubt be with the Pathfinders. And… Kes will be there too, so if he wants in on this, he can. Though Poe is still expecting it to be bad news, and he's not sure how he feels about his father being around for that.

But maybe it's better than having to explain it to him afterwards.

"Can you comm him?" Kylo asks Rey, wanting a little bit of space with Poe. He doesn't look happy, and so the Sith puts his hand on his waist, trying to reassure him. 

"Of course," Rey answers, her eyes flicking quickly between Kylo and Poe, and she gives them both a nod and steps away to do so.

Poe can tell Kylo is trying to get him alone, and headtilts. "What is it?"

"Just because she's here, it doesn't mean it's bad, you know." Kylo watches his face, looking for something. "Don't cancel the series before you even saw the pilot." 

"I know," Poe concedes, and deep down he's well aware that Kylo's right. It's just hard to shake the feeling. And the connotations. "It might be good news. We could use some of that."

He slides his arms around Kylo's waist and steps in closer. "Come on. We should go see what this is about."

***

By the time they arrive, there's a small court around Maz Kanata's ship. Leia, Han and Chewie are already there, though the Pathfinders and Finn are not.

Maz's hand strokes Chewie's leg fur below the knee, and Chewie… well. He looks strangely embarrassed. Which is unusual, for a Wookiee.

"Rey! Poe! Kylo!" she calls out, letting go of her 'boyfriend'. "It's so lovely to see you three again. Where's the fourth?"

"Finn's on his way," Rey answers, warmly. "He's just finishing up his training session."

"It's good to see you," Leia says to Maz. "I'm guessing by the suddenness of your arrival that this isn't a purely social call?"

"Am I that obvious?" Maz adjusts her goggles slightly, then her fingers touch in front of her, low down, resting. "I heard my favourite people might need a little help."

"When don't we?" Kylo mutters.

Maz clucks her tongue at him. "I also heard what happened in the Senate. That General is a tricky one. Wheels within wheels. But if you can remove him from the picture, I believe you'll have a much better chance of winning."

Poe looks at her in surprise. "General?" he repeats, and it takes him a second to realise that she's not talking about any of the politicians. Or, certainly not the official ones. "You mean Hux?"

"One and the same, dear boy," the old woman says. "He's very young to rise so high. And when someone that young is so powerful…"

Kylo shuffles, uncomfortable. He's even younger than Hux, after all.

"Oh, hush. You came back, didn't you? None of that nonsense, boy." Maz shakes her head.

"You reckon you got something on him?" Han asks. "'Cause that would sure help. The bastard hides himself too well. Shoulda killed him back when."

"I was rather pre-occupied with Snoke," Kylo replies, trying to keep his voice level.

"Didn't just mean you," Han cuts back at him.

Poe starts trying to think calming thoughts without it being too obvious that he is.

Perhaps mercifully, it's at this point that Kes and Finn turn up. They move to join the group, Rey headtilting for Finn to come join her, and Kes – perhaps instinctively – stepping closer to his son.

"Kes, this is Maz Kanata," Leia says, introducing them. "Maz, this is Kes Dameron, one of the original Pathfinders, and Poe's father."

"Oh, I see where he gets half of that smile of his from," the diminutive woman says, beaming up at Kes. "And the eyes. There's much of him in you, and you in him."

Kes looks a little taken aback by the attention, but he smiles nonetheless. "I'm beginning to learn just how much," he answers, and puts a hand on his son's shoulder for a moment.

"What did we miss?" Finn asks.

"Maz seems to have a cunning plan," Kylo explains. "Something about Hux."

Chewie roars what he thinks of said General, and Maz laughs in delight. "I completely agree, lover. Do you want to do this here, or is there somewhere we can talk?"

"I'm sure I can find us somewhere more comfortable," Leia replies, with a smile.

***

The place in question turns out to be a meeting room in one of the secondary bunkers. It has a large central table, and they all settle in the ring of chairs around it.

"You mentioned Hux before," Poe says to Maz, wanting to find out what's really going on here. "Do you have something on him? Something we can use?"

"People come through my watering hole and tell me many wonderful tales," Maz replies, with a slow nod of her head. "And I heard one recently, that reminded me of another… Do you know who General Hux is?"

"If this is one of those riddle things," Han grumbles.

"What do you know of the man?" Maz says, turning to Kylo.

"As a person? Very little. He's ridiculously devoted to the Order, but who wasn't?" Kylo glances at Finn, and they keep eye-contact for a moment. "He was… almost like a pre-programmed droid. No offence meant to _well-programmed_ droids."

"And yet, he had a mother, and a father, the same as you do," Maz adds. "His father was one Brendol Hux. A loyal man of the Empire, by all accounts. But his mother… very few have heard of her." 

"There's almost nothing in the records," Leia agrees. "Admiral Statura looked into it some years back, but came up blank. Whoever she was, nigh-on every trace of her is missing. There were a couple of opaque references, but only ever in connection to her husband. Statura's people couldn't even find a name."

"That's weird," Poe says. "You'd think that the wife of an Imperial Commandant – even if she wasn't politically active – would have at least _some_ presence in the records. Did someone try to hide her?"

"Well, she and Brendol Hux were not star-crossed lovers," Maz continues. "She was very much absent from the political scene once her son was born, and not much on it before. And – if my sources are correct – she fled from the First Order many years ago."

Kylo frowns. "…and she's still alive?"

"I believe so. And I believe I have a reliable source on where she is _now_."

"You think Hux even cares? If she's been gone for so long?" Kylo says it, then… realises what he's said, and won't meet his parents' eyes. 

Poe darts a hand out to grip Kylo's, not caring what anyone thinks.

"He cares," Rey says, softly. "They're family. You can't switch that off. Even… even if you've been apart for a really long time."

"If this woman fled the Order, the likelihood is that she and her son are not on good terms," Leia points out. "Or, not in his eyes, at least. She may well be hiding from him."

"And we think finding him will… what? Appeal to his better side?" Kylo doesn't want to say much, but he's also trying to push through the fact he just monumentally insulted nearly everyone present. Yeah, well done.

"Can't hurt to try. If nothing else, reckon she'll be able to film propaganda for us, right?" Han suggests, elbowing Chewie into agreeing.

"We shall know when we meet her," Maz says. "But I believe it will be beneficial, whether directly, or by proxy."

"What if she doesn't want anything to do with us?" Poe asks, levelly. "She may have run from her son and the First Order, but that doesn't mean she would necessarily agree with the Resistance. She may well still hate what we stand for."

He doesn't know what he thinks about any of this. On the one hand, any leverage they could gain over Hux would be of immense benefit, and he has no qualms whatsoever about going after the man. But… using his family? His _mother_?

"Well, do you object to holding her until he sues for her release?" Maz asks. "Rumour has it you already have someone under house arrest."

"Tovim doesn't count," Poe says, at once, like he's on autopilot. "He defected. I very much doubt the Order or the Knights of Ren care about him anymore. As for this woman…"

He hesitates. Poe desperately wants to go after Hux with everything they have. He knows the man is responsible for what the Resistance is going through right now and he would sorely love to hit back. But, at the same time, something about this doesn't feel right.

"I don't want to act hastily," Leia says, perhaps sensing his hesitation, perhaps agreeing with it. "The Resistance does not make a habit of arresting people for political reasons. I would prefer to approach this woman quietly, and see where she stands."

"Just because we talk to her, doesn't mean we'll… do anything else," Kylo agrees. "And even if we did take her into custody, we'd treat her well. Very well. It's not as if we--" and he stops, again, because he's just one walking mess of putting his foot into it, isn't he, right now?

Poe grips Kylo's hand tighter. "We're not them," he says, in firm agreement.

 _No, but I used to be_ , Kylo thinks across to Poe. 

"Where is this woman hiding out?" Leia asks. "I'm guessing it's somewhere remote?"

"Of course," Maz says, with a delicate incline of her head. "My sources say she ended up on a planet called Dathomir. You may have heard of it?"

Kylo looks to Rey – then Leia – and nods. "There were Force-sensitives there, I think? Who worked with the Emperor?"

"Quite," Maz agrees. "Not Sith, but they used the Dark Side. They are all gone, so they say. But it is strange for his mother to go there, don't you think?"

"Hux never liked the Force," Kylo agrees, confused. "Maybe that's why she's hiding there."

"Maybe." 

"We need to talk to her," Poe says. "But I think we need to do it carefully. If she's trying to stay hidden from the First Order, the last thing we want is to lead them right to her. I propose we approach her quietly to begin with. Gauge where she really stands in all this. Find out if she would be willing to help us."

Or… the other thing. Which Poe does not want to think about.

"I agree," Leia answers. "If we play this right, we stand to gain an unexpected ally. But if we play it wrong… we hand yet more ammunition to our enemies, at a time when they already have far too much."

"It should be a small unit that goes," Kylo says. "We need to keep it off-radar. Perhaps… just me and Poe?"

He looks over to his mother, then. Poe's been cleared for active – and off-world – duty, especially because it takes him further away from Tovim. But this is a deeply emotive mission, and a sensitive one, too.

"Someone who knows her son would likely be an asset," Maz agrees. 

"Plus, we're about to head off on something," Finn says. "So if you're up for it, it makes sense." 

Poe nods. "I think it's the best course of action. We need to do this carefully." He looks to Leia again. "How do you want us to proceed?"

"Go to Dathomir and find this woman," Leia answers. "Find out all you can, find out where she stands. And… try to persuade her to help us. Offer her the fullest protection that the Resistance can provide, if that's what it takes."

"And… if that isn't enough?" Poe asks.

"Then do what you think is best. Do what you think is _right_."

"…do we know anything about her, though? A name, or what she looks like?" Kylo asks. 

Maz nods. "Her true name, I don't know. The one she goes by now is Antione Rakkato." 

"It's a start," Poe says. "We'll find her."

He still doesn't know what he's expecting. A First Order devotee who just happened to fall out with her husband? A victim? A trophy wife? Or… something else entirely?

"She is teaching Basic to non-Humans," Maz continues. "Which is interesting, because it means she knows their native tongues. Normally a job for protocol droids. It's what drew my attention to her."

"Well, that bodes well. The Order doesn't like non-Humans," Kylo says, with a slight smile. "That could be very good for us."

"You'll get through to her, if anyone can." Maz nods, then tilts her head up to Rey. "Would you mind showing me where I can stay, my child?"

Rey seems a little surprised by the request, but she nods. "Of course. I'd be happy to." Then her eyes flit over to Finn. "But I promise not to be late for the Pathfinders' mission briefing."

Poe wonders where they're going. No doubt his father will tell him all about it later.

"Tread carefully," Leia says, to Kylo and Poe. "And may the Force be with you."

***

Danika does not want to read any more reports. Her eyes hurt, and her head hurts, and she basically hates paperwork. With a burning, fiery passion. She also hates the Order, and the other Knights (except her sister), the galaxy in general, and… well.

It's possible she's having a bad day.

She doesn't notice who it is, snapping at the bleep of the door, then looking apologetic when she sees it's Daria.

"Sorry," she mutters, sounding grumpy, still. 

Daria pulls her helmet off as the door to their shared rooms closes, and it's immediately obvious that something is not right.

"Are you alone?" she asks, which is code for 'is the dangerous assassin droid we accidentally recruited anywhere nearby?' Anyone else would show up in the Force, but of course the droid is tediously absent.

Danika nods, and swings her feet to the ground from the table. "Yes. I sent it for an oil bath and to look up galactic history." Otherwise known as: a Long Stand. 

"Good," Daria says. "That's… that's good. I just returned from Arkanis Prime. Not only did I have to contend with General Hux, but Captain Phasma, too. It was not an experience I would care to repeat."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know he would bring his shiny bucket along on that, but I suppose I should have guessed he would…" Danika leans forwards, hands clasped together. "Was it worthwhile? Did you find anything out we can use?"

"I did," Daria answers. "They didn't want me to see everything, that much was obvious, but I got a good sense for how the station runs and how the troopers are trained. It is… an effective system, efficient and sustainable. Although our approach would be different, I believe there's a great deal we could make use of in terms of infrastructure and organisation."

But it's obvious there's something she isn't saying: something huge and driven by emotion, burning like fire in the Dark of the Force.

Danika can feel it, as surely as she can feel gravity pulling her down. A thing, unquestionable and unavoidable. "What is it?" 

She almost doesn't want to ask, because if her sister feels this badly, then… "What did you see?" 

There's a moment of hesitation, and it's clear that Daria doesn't quite want to admit to the source of her disquiet. But she can't hide it. Not from her twin.

"Children," she answers, more softly. "I saw children. They take them young. Train them from the very beginning. It was…"

Daria bites her lip, falling silent and pacing a few steps, as if trying to suppress her response. But it's clearly much too strong to be pushed down.

"…It reminded me of before. Of… of how things started for us."

Ah. Danika's face strips of all emotion, her eyes the only hint of the war inside. A distance, a nothing-feeling, and a far-too-feeling all at once. Children. But… "That's why we have to learn from them. If we – _when we_ – get the Eye, we'll be finding children, you know."

Like they were. Except giving them a better option than the Jedi scum had. 

"We're not them." 

"No," Daria agrees. "We're not them. We'd be telling the truth, not spreading lies and falsehoods, designed to control and suppress. But… _children_ , Dani. It… It feels…"

The inside of her head echoes with distant, never-forgotten screams, and the memory flares out through the Force, down their bond; a shockwave of remembrance and pain.

The elder twin rises slowly, goes over to take her sibling by the hands. She tugs, and pushes their foreheads together, trying to press safety, reassurance, love through to her. "Children have to learn, one way or another. And we'll be teaching them how to be free, and strong. That's not a bad thing, sis." 

Danika often wishes they'd had someone, someone who really knew what to say, when they had been small. But you can't undo the past, and only change the future. "You know this." 

"I do," Daria says, though her voice is shaking, and lacking in conviction. "And I understand why it would work, both for us and for the First Order. I understand the logic behind it, the tactical value. I even understand why the Jedi did it, though of course I don't agree with what they taught. But…"

 _But it feels wrong_.

"But what?" the other woman pushes, a little harshness in her tone that isn't really meant, but leaks in all the same. "Dar, you know we have to have one another's backs. Don't lock me out. You're all I have."

Danika hates appealing to her like that – it feels like blackmail – but she… has to pull Daria around, somehow. 

"I'm not," Daria insists, voice full of desperate fervour. "I would never. I'll always have your back, and I'll always follow your lead. I just… Do we have to take them when they're children? _Little_ children? Can't we at least wait until they hit adolescence, until they can start thinking for themselves?"

 _Like we never got the chance to_.

"When they could already be warped, or treated poorly? I'm not saying we throw them into battle, Dar. I'm saying we teach them how to control themselves. You know what teenagers are like. Once that hits, they won't want to listen to us, even." She remembers.

That had been a tough time for them all. 

"You know we have to."

"Do we?" Daria looks nervous about even suggesting it, but it's clear this is weighing heavily on her and she can't throw it off. "The Jedi did it. The First Order do it. We're not them. We're better than them, than all of them. What if this is just another mistake they made, that we're in danger of repeating?"

"…then… when? Honestly, if they're adolescents, they've got their hormones raging. They're going to buck against _anyone_. We can't just let them screw their whole lives up and swoop in at the end and hope for the best." 

Danika lets go of her hands, running thumbs over her knuckles. "We don't have to be as hard on them as the others. But we can't let them run wild." 

There's a moment's pause, and Daria nods, though she looks numb. "All right," she says. "All right. I just… don't want us to turn into _them_."

"We won't. We won't, Dar. We remember what it was like, so we'll make it better for them," Danika promises. "We'll work out the problems as much as we can beforehand, but we… we're giving them the _best chance_ , remember? Protecting them from people like Hux, like – Kylo." 

"I know." Daria still sounds hesitant, but she's obviously trying to accept the idea. "I know. We have to show them the truth, right from the start. We have to be _better_."

"So… tell me. Tell me what you wish we'd had. Now, knowing what happened. Tell me what we need to give these children, to let them grow up safe and strong?" 

"They need to know the truth," Daria says, at once. "They need to know what it means to have the Force – what it _really_ means – and what they're capable of. But they shouldn't be made to fear it. They shouldn't ever have to _be_ afraid. They _should_ be safe, and they _should_ be strong, and they shouldn't be _made_ to want this life because it should already be the life they want. And… they should never be betrayed by someone they idolise. They should be able to trust us as their Masters and know that they are an end, not a means."

Danika reaches up, then, and clasps Daria's shoulder. A fierce, swelling pride and a remembered pain that dance in the Force like bugs to the light. Oh, it's true. It's so very, very true.

"And don't you think that we can make them feel like that? So they're ready for whatever the galaxy has to throw at them? I don't just mean blaster bolts, or Lightning. I mean everyone calling them a monster, everyone running in fear. They should be able to feel _proud_ of that." 

"I hope that we can," Daria says. "I just… don't ever want any of them to have to go through what we did. I don't want to become what I hate."

"You won't. And… we'll keep a check on one another, okay? If we think… if we think something's going too far, we'll speak up. Between us, we can't go wrong." 

Danika walks towards the fridge, feeling the need for a cold drink. Maybe several. She cocks her head, asking wordlessly if the other woman wants one, too. 

Daria gives a nod, catching the bottle that her sister throws with ease. "I'm sorry," she says. "I'm not questioning what we're doing. I just want to be sure we're doing it _right_."

"Was there anything else, though? Any… weakness in the Order's high command you picked up while you were with him?" 

Danika will take anything she can against Hux. Especially now she knows he's daring to plot against her, too. The fact this is somewhat hypocritical never once crosses her mind. 

"I have to be honest, their systems are extremely impressive," Daria answers, sounding a little sullen about the fact. "They train their people hard but they remain on the lookout for sedition and dissident thought. We know it isn't completely watertight, but it's good. And Hux and Phasma are thick as thieves."

The younger twin headtilts. "But they think they're unstoppable. Their arrogance is what makes them weak."

"I assume that means we won't be able to steal his Captain, then? Pity. Although… someone who could change sides easily…" It hadn't been easy for them, so she doesn't think it applies to her, or her sister.

"Is there any chink between them, anything but a united front?" 

"Not that I could see," Daria answers. "Her respect for him is absolute, but it doesn't feel forced. They're both fanatics. And he respects her opinions and expertise. I think we have to assume that to take on one of them is to take on both of them."

"I see. And if they're all conditioned to respect the rank structure… we're going to need to assume that rank, or put a friendly face in." Danika's thinking aloud, tapping her fingers to her lips. "Unless we disrupt their training, somehow. Build a backdoor into it… I'll have to think about that." 

"Both would be viable options," Daria agrees. "Though we will need to be careful."

A pause, whilst she takes a sip of her drink. "Has the droid from Midwanjontû said anything else? Anything useful I mean. I'm assuming he's said plenty about killing our enemies."

"He's become very interested in the development of weapons and personal defence mechanisms since he was de-activated," Danika replies. "He's off looking into the armoury now. I honestly don't know if he'll be of any real use, other than as weaponised cannon-fodder, though. Can't quite work out if the… quirks are programming, or if such a long life has sent him space-crazy." 

Despite everything, Daria gives a little laugh. "Maybe we should just lock him in a room with Hux. That would solve at least one of our problems."

"Unless they bonded. But if we could get Hux to tell it what he thought of the Force, then yeah, it might work. Frankly, I'm half of a mind to de-activate him and plug him into the mainframe to see if we can extract more useful intel. I have a feeling he's hiding things from us." 

"Who is hiding things from you?" comes a voice from the doorway.

It's HK-47, apparently having entered without ringing the chime. Or making any other kind of sound. The droid paces closer, seeming a mixture of nonchalant and mildly perturbed.

"Are you having trouble with enemies, master?" HK asks, conversationally. "I would be more than happy to assist if so. This ship is fascinating, but it does lack suitable targets. Or… approved ones, at least."

Danika does not blush, though it takes a lot of effort not to. Through the Force, her discomfort waves out. Droids are… tricky, sneaky, hard things. And this is one of many reasons she does not like them.

"It doesn't concern you; it's an internal, First Order matter," she replies. 

"Oh." HK-47 sounds mildly disappointed. "Encouraging remark: You shouldn't let that put you off. I can deal with many kinds of problems. All you need to do is say the word."

"We're trying to _avoid_ killing our allies right now," Daria throws across.

" _All_ of them?" HK asks, hopefully.

"Yes. All of them." Right now.

"That's why they're 'allies'," Danika says, the sarcasm not hidden in her tone. "We have enough enemies as it is. A whole army of them. Have you forgotten already?" 

"Not at all," the droid answers. If he's picked up on the tone, it doesn't show. "Inquisitive: Would you prefer me to kill some of those? I would be happy to."

"Don't you do anything _besides_ killing?" Daria asks.

The assassin droid gives a mechanical shrug. "I tried torture for a while. I found it tiresome. I realise it has its applications, but most of the time it just leaves you stuck with the meatb– ah, _organic_ in question for longer than necessary."

"How else do you get answers out of them?" Danika is confused. The droid doesn't have the Force, so it can't pull replies out like they can, after all. "Or do you just shoot first and think never?" 

"I think plenty," HK answers. "Targeted assassinations don't just plan themselves, you know. Besides, my master – my _first_ master – preferred to do the torturing herself."

He gives what can only be described as a wistful sigh, and then adds, "Offhand statement: Also, you might want to be more careful about these allies of yours. The ones you're intent on not killing."

Danika tries not to reach for her sabre. So, so very hard. Something about the droid just irritates her. He's not subordinate enough, even if he _was_ (allegedly) Revan's. "Oh?" 

"Yes," HK says, calmly, with the air of one who knows they have breaking news. "A member of the command structure on this very ship – an officer – has just been executed for multiple counts of treason. From what I could gather, he'd been acting as a deep-cover spy for the Resistance, potentially for years."

"A deep-cover spy?" Daria repeats, obviously surprised.

"Seemingly so," HK replies. "Apparently, he'd leaked a great deal of classified material, including the location of a ship you lost recently – the _Decimator_?"

Daria turns to the droid at once. "Who was this person?"

Another easy, metallic shrug. "Dramatic reveal: I was not able to catch his actual designation. But, to the Resistance, his name was Copperwing."


	24. Heir Of The Empire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday, folks! We're back with our next chapter, in which we finally get to a reveal we've been waiting on since pretty much day one! Some of you have been wondering what we're planning to do with Hux's backstory and - perhaps crucially - when we came up with it. Well, the answer to that is that we came up with it right at the start of plotting this and, although canon has moved on since then, we're sticking with what we originally decided on. We like it too much!
> 
> *slides the liquor and hugs closer* We're just gonna leave these here. No reason. Don't even worry about it...

The _Phoenix_ hurtles through hyperspace once more.

At the controls, Poe watches the soothing spiral of light up ahead, trying to run things through in his mind. This whole mission is unexpected, and he still doesn't know how he really feels about it.

Plus it would help if he could actually think in straight lines. The inside of his head is turbulent at best, and sometimes he worries it's getting worse.

"How do you want to play this?" he asks, looking over at Kylo.

"Honestly, until I know how she feels about her son… I don't know. She might reach for an alarm the minute we get there, she might hear his name and try to kill us thinking we came from him. I… really have no clue. I was aware of his father – peripherally – but he was never much of a family man."

He appeared, instead, to have come from a pod now Kylo thinks about it in any depth. "We're flying blind. But it might help – if it comes to it – to play… uh. Good cop, bad cop?" 

"Remember how that went last time?" Poe says, wryly, remembering the way it felt to bowl Tovim Ren to the ground. "Maybe I should be good cop for this one."

"I'm happy with you being the good cop," Kylo agrees, with a wry smile. "Try not to punch her. You don't know if she's an asshole or not, yet. Plus, she has to be at least as old as our parents." 

Poe nods. "No physical violence. Gotcha. Maybe you should just do that thing you do, with the Force, and…"

OK, possibly it's best not to think about that right now. Distraction is bad.

"Poe." Kylo tilts his head, brows lifting. "You do realise I can hear you, right now?" 

"…No you can't…" Poe tries, futilely, voice going a little higher than it should.

"Really?" Kylo asks. And then starts pushing a very loud thought about Snap wearing a pink, fluffy dress into Poe's mind. 

"Stop that!" Poe retorts at once. "Seriously, what is wrong with you?!"

On the plus side, it puts an end to the inappropriate thoughts. And probably will for quite some time.

A smirk, and the Sith nods, just slightly. "You needed cheering up." And distracting. Because they don't really have time to do much before they land, and Dathomir is not Jakku. 

"Consider me cheered," is Poe's reply. "And mentally scarred for life."

"I could have gone much worse," Kylo points out. "Next time, I'll try."

Something beeps on the console, and Poe turns back to it. "We're coming up on Dathomir. Hold on…"

Beyond the cockpit window, reality snaps back into focus as the ship drops to sublight. And now, in front of them, is a red-hued planet, hanging in the black of space. Even from this distance, it's clear this is a sparsely-populated world, swathed in forest and jungle.

"Homey," Kylo says. "I can see why there were Dark Siders here. We do seem to love the redder tones. And sand, apparently." Although he doesn't like sand. 

"No sand here," Poe replies. "Plenty of swamps, though." He shakes his head. "One day, I will get to take you somewhere _nice_."

"Nice places exist?" Kylo doubts it. "Tahanan is okay. I'm happy with that."

The pilot has co-ordinates from Maz Kanata, which supposedly point to an isolated homestead a good distance out from one of the southern settlements: a homestead belonging to the woman going by Antione Rakkato.

"Our destination is pretty heavily forested," Poe says. "We're going to have to put down about a half-mile off and walk the rest of the way."

"Okay. I'll prepare packs for us, while you do the checks and things?" Kylo offers. At least they won't need rebreathers here. Probably. He'll pack some for emergencies. 

Poe nods. "All right. I'm going to bring us in to land. Let's hope no one here is paying attention…"

The _Phoenix_ swoops down over Dathomir, shaking a little as it passes into the atmosphere and through a pretty thick layer of cloud. The forests beneath are vast, and dense, and Poe brings them in towards one of the few open areas that isn't connected to the nearest settlement.

Finally, they're down, the ship thudding onto a rough meadow of sorts, entirely surrounded by trees. Poe runs through the post-flight checks, and then goes to help Kylo with the final preparations.

Kylo hefts his small backpack on, better prepared than not, and holds one out to Poe. BB-8 rolls about around their feet, whirring softly. 

"…should we bring something to carry him through the swamps?" he asks. 

"Or maybe you should stay here and watch the ship?" Poe suggests to the little astro.

BB-8 whirls and beeps some more, insisting that it has heard all R2-D2's stories of Dagobah, and that there's no way this place can be as bad.

"All right," Poe concedes. "But just remember, this was your idea!"

The astro chitters happily, seeming unconcerned, and moves to follow them.

Kylo grabs the bag that they sometimes use to saddle BB-8 astride a speederbike, stuffing it into his own backpack. He's become very fond of the droid, after all. When Poe's looking the other way, he drops down to pat him. 

"You've had at least as many adventures as R2, now, you know. But we're not going to leave you behind." 

BB-8 bleeps happily and bumps up against Kylo's hand.

Poe, meanwhile, turns to hit the button to drop the rear hatch of the ship. As it lowers, they can see the forest beyond: thick and wild, heavy with undergrowth. The air isn't hot, but it is still, and something about it seems a little ominous.

"Maybe I should bring a machete…" the pilot wonders.

"I have my sabre," Kylo counters, patting his hip. "Cuts through almost anything in the galaxy." With a few exceptions he doesn't expect to find growing on any tree. 

He strides out, letting the astro follow behind excitedly, and looks around. "It looks really nice. You sure you don't want to get a house here, when everything's over?"

"No," Poe says, flatly. "I like my forests _without_ swamps. Plus this whole place gives me the creeps…"

Maybe it's the planet's history, the tales of Nightsisters and witches hidden in the trees, or maybe it's just the unnatural stillness of the air and the silence brought about by all the undergrowth. Or… maybe it's something else entirely.

"Where would you, then? Still… still Yavin?" Kylo slices through some of the undergrowth that seems to be in their way, letting it fall with a _hissh_ to his feet. "Because I liked Yavin. It… seems like… I mean, nothing ever did feel fully like home but the _Falcon_ , but it was close." 

"Yavin, yes," Poe answers. "It never feels quite as much like home as it used to, but I know it could again." A beat. "I miss it, sometimes."

A flicker, in his mind. _Treetops far below, flicking past in a blur as he skims over them: weightless, invulnerable, free…_ And then that inner world goes red, and he jumps back from it, trying not to let the reaction show.

Kylo grabs Poe's wrist, just once, and then lets go. "I promise, when we destroy the First Order, when our _own_ Order is settled… we'll do that. And before – when we're still recruiting – I'll let you fly me all around the galaxy looking for recruits." 

Poe smiles. "You know I'd fly you anywhere. We could even go back to Jakku. You know, for the memories. Or we could check out Tatooine. I hear it's lovely this time of year…"

"Poe. What did I say about sand? And… we're probably banned from Jakku. After… the incident." Which is all he'll say in BB-8's earshot. 

"Oh, I'm sure they forgot all about that. Besides, we were in disguise." A beat. "I was just trying to think of places that don't include _swamps_ …"

The pilot narrowly avoids blundering into one; managing to balance on the edge of a log to skirt round it. BB-8 hops up easily behind him, warbling a nonchalant little song to itself as it does.

Kylo follows, carefully placing his feet, even though the Force assists him with this. "Of all the planets in the galaxy, though… we could find many that didn't have sand. Or blood. Or swamps. Hell, we could go to Corellia. It's apparently where I'm partly from. Or Naboo…" 

"Naboo always sounded pleasant," Poe remarks. "Might be a little upmarket for a flyboy from Yavin, but then, I did marry above my station…"

He glances back, grinning. "Plus my mother did help save it that one time."

"You fool, you're more than upmarket enough for any planet, with or without me," Kylo chides, slapping his ass when they get off the log. "And, you do know you're kind of royalty. One by adoption, and one by… inheritance, even if it was electoral royalty…"

Poe just sort of stops. Academically, he knows what Kylo is saying is true, and has done all along. But he's never actually engaged with the fact. "I am not. I'm a flyboy from Yavin. I… shit, I _am_ , aren't I?"

A nod. "Yep. I know Alderaan's gone, but… well. If it was still here, we'd technically be… Princes. Not that it meant much, politically speaking, but…" Kylo shrugs. "Prince. Prince Poe." 

"Shush!" Poe insists, blushing a little. "Thank the Force the other pilots haven't worked that one out yet, or I'd never hear the end of it…"

"Maybe I should tell them to address you as 'Your Highness'. I mean, Dad still does to Mom, so…" 

"I could go off you, you know," Poe retorts, desperately trying to sound serious, and only sort of managing it.

"Think of the paperwork involved in divorcing me," Kylo shoots over his shoulder, cutting more undergrowth with his sabre. Then…

"…do you want to help? I have got two blades, you know." He keeps not thinking about that. 

"Yes," Poe answers. "Arming me further right now would be an excellent idea." And then he smirks. " _Your Highness_."

"I can defend myself," Kylo reminds him, turning the blade off and tossing it towards him to catch. He pulls out the silvery one of his own, and flourishes it overtly. 

Poe catches the sabre with ease and thumbs the blade back into life. "So I've noticed," he says, dryly – smirking some more – before he moves to help with cutting them a path. Apparently it's more therapeutic than it looks.

They trudge on a little more, eventually coming to something of a clearing. Kylo turns the blade off, attaching it back to his belt. He likes to use it as little as possible, even retuned as it is. The crystal is older than he is, and owes no loyalty to either side of the Force. It is… well. Like the Force itself. It is something to be respected, but also treated with a small, healthy amount of scepticism. 

"What's the local time – it looks… like early evening?" Kylo asks, glancing over to Poe. 

The pilot checks his chrono. "Yeah, just about," he answers. "So I'm guessing she should be home by now. Assuming we've got the right place, of course."

And it seems like the place in question is just up ahead. Beyond the edge of the little clearing, in the shadow of several immense trees, is a dome-shaped structure. It isn't ancient, but it's obviously been here a good number of years, and looks designed to be robust and easily-secured. Which makes sense, given the number of dangerous animals known to roam these forests.

Poe is sort of surprised they haven't run into any of the larger, multi-clawed fauna. Though not stupid enough to say anything of the kind out loud, where fate might overhear.

"All right. Well. If we get stopped for identification, I'm going to just wave us through. Our faces will set off too many alerts if they run them. Benefit of being on the Galaxy's Most Wanted list…" Kylo rolls his eyes as he remembers. 

"This place looks more than isolated enough," Poe replies. "I doubt we'll run into law enforcement at a lone homestead. Unless she has a panic button… might be wise to watch for that."

Though he can't help thinking a blaster to the face is a more likely risk. But Kylo will come in handy there, too.

They approach the homestead cautiously. It consists of that main, enclosed dome, with a small garden inside, and the house itself in the centre. It's elegant – homey, almost – but, at the same time, is clearly designed to function as a fortress.

The front door is locked. Of course. "Can you trip this open with the Force?" Poe asks. "Or should I try something I totally didn't learn in my wild youth?"

"You forget who my father was," Kylo points out, patting the hip pocket with his own multi-tool in. "I learned how to use my hands before I learned to use the Force." 

He slides a hand through the air, eyes drifting shut as he feels for the mechanism. It's more than just a physical lock, there's plenty of electronic fail-safes, and… "I think this might need two pairs of hands. If you get into the panel, I'll feel for the tumblers and catches. She seems to want to keep out both Force-users and non Force-users." 

Poe nods, and moves in closer, dropping down onto one knee and managing to get the panel open. "All right," he says. "Let's see if… yes, you're right, this _is_ a tricky one…"

"People who lock things up this securely really _do_ have something to hide, or overwhelming paranoia," Kylo says. He slides his senses up and down, trying to find a weak spot in the mechanics. 

Which would be when – without them having done anything to cause it – the lock clunks heavily and the door slides back, revealing a woman standing directly behind. She's pale and grey-haired, but there's no frailty to her stance, and no denying the blaster pointed at the two of them.

"If you had _manners_ ," the woman says, her aim unwavering, "you would simply _knock_. Now. Who are you, and what do you want?"

Kylo startles, moving slowly between the woman and his husband, protective instinct kicking in. "We're here to talk, ma'am," he says as politely as he can. "My name is Kylo Organa-Solo, and this is Poe Dameron. I knew your son."

"I have no son," the woman snaps. "I have no son, no desire to talk, and no patience. Leave now, if you wish to do so whilst still fully intact."

"We're not here to hurt you," Poe insists, trying to get hold of the situation before it runs away from them completely. "All we want is to talk. Please, hear us out, and then if you still want us to go, we'll go."

Will they? Poe isn't sure about that part. And he doesn't like the way the awareness feels.

"I told you, I have no intention of talking to you. Now get out."

Kylo gestures, and the woman's blaster goes flying from her hand. He has to get her attention, and her understanding. "You had a son. He is still out there. We want to stop what he's doing. Now: are you going to at least give us half an hour to discuss it? If you ever cared for him – at all – don't you owe him that?"

The woman's eyes go wide, and she stares at Kylo as if seeing him for the first time. "Organa-Solo…" she murmurs. "You're _him_. You've changed your name, but… you're **him**. Did Alek send you here to..? No. No. You want to _stop_ him? I thought you worked with him..?"

Poe takes a cautious step forward, hands held out a little, trying to look like a man who isn't a threat. "I'm guessing you don't follow the galactic news so much?"

"No. I don't want to hear it. It's better I don't know."

"Then you've missed a thing or two. Kylo is with the Resistance, now. As am I. We're not a threat to you, I promise."

"Your son is still with the Order. Your… Alek. He's going to be responsible for a lot of deaths if we don't stop him," Kylo goes on. "And yes, I used to work with him. That's why I know. We want to see if we can get him to stop… before we have to stop _him_." Permanently.

The woman sighs, softly, pain creasing the lines of her face. "You'd better come inside," she says.

And, making sure to lock the main door behind them, she leads the two men across the domed garden and into the house beyond. It's neat and well-kept, betraying an edge of military precision that apparently runs in both sides of the family.

When they're inside – in the kitchen of the house – the woman paces a little, watching them, evidently still not sure if she's safe.

"Your name is not Antione Rakkato," Poe says, keeping his voice light.

She looks pained again. "It is. And it isn't. It is who I am now. Before… I was Orinna Hux."

"Why did you leave?" Kylo asks. "You clearly don't… agree with what your son is doing, now. But he still is your son, underneath it all, isn't he?"

It's difficult to ask that. Would someone have said the same to his mother, a year ago? What would Leia's response have been? 

Orinna turns away for a moment, arms wrapped around herself, before she looks back at them. "How much do you know?" she asks, softly.

"Very little," Poe concedes. "A source told us where you were – but they won't betray you to anyone else, I promise. We came here because we hoped you might be able to help us face… did you say his name was Alek?"

"Alek, yes," Orinna replies. "Alek Hux. My only son."

Poe has spent all this time pretty much convinced the man's first name was 'General', but he's smart enough to keep that line to himself.

There's a pause, and then Orinna turns to look at the pair of them. "I will tell you the truth, if that's what you want to hear. It will change everything, and I cannot take it back. Are you prepared for that?"

"That's why we're here," Kylo says, softly. "We want to try to fix things. Everything, if we can." 

Orinna nods. "All right. Although, much of it… you cannot fix. You cannot, because it is already beyond the point of repair. It is…"

She puts her hands on the worksurface beyond them, and breathes deeply.

"You are asking more than you know. I will tell you why I left my husband, and my son, but before I do, you need to understand something else. Something very much worse."

They've missed something big, Poe knows it now, and he has to concentrate to keep his voice level as he asks, "Something worse?"

Another little nod. "Yes. You might think badly of me for being the wife of Brendol Hux and the mother of Alek Hux, but both of those connections pale before the truth of whose _daughter_ I am."

One last breath, and when the world doesn't stop Orinna Hux from speaking, the words finally spill out. "My father was Sheev Palpatine, the Emperor."

Kylo starts, then reaches out through the Force in panic. Palpatine? Darth Sidious himself? Surely not… The Emperor had never wed, and if he had, surely his offspring would have been his Apprentice, and not Anakin Skywalker?

He can't feel her. But that means little, he knows: Yoda and Obi-Wan shielded themselves for years. It isn't beyond the realms of possibility that she, too, could.

"You are a Sith?" he asks, as delicately as he can, though fear is in his tone when he asks.

Orinna shakes her head. "No," she says. "No. I am not Force-sensitive. It is both my greatest gift, and my greatest curse. Without the Force, my father had no need to twist me to the Dark, to serve his cause. But in turn, I had no way of standing up to him. No way of preventing myself from becoming little more than a pawn in his operations."

"And… your mother?" Poe asks. His blood has gone cold, and he doesn't know what to think yet.

"I had no mother," Orinna answers. "Not in any real sense. I was not born of flesh and blood, but metal and tubes. In the last years of the Republic, before Order Sixty-Six, before the rise of the Empire, my father began extensive experimentation with genetic technology. He was trying to find a way to clone himself – to what end, I do not know – and, as part of his experimentations, he created me. Of course, I am not a clone, but most of my genetic material comes from him. The rest… I have no idea. Palpatine wanted an heir, an apprentice: someone he could mould and shape into his successor, both in the Empire, and in the Sith. Instead… he got me. He thought any child of his would be strong in the Force. He was wrong."

"It is not natural to interfere with the Force like that," Kylo mutters, sounding horrified. "I… I mean no offence to you. But to… to do that… to make children?" 

Nope. Oh, definitely not. He sways a little, disgusted. "I am so sorry." 

Orinna shakes her head. "It isn't your fault. It's his. The only saving grace was that, when I failed to come out the way he had hoped, he abandoned the project entirely. I was raised by his staff, whilst he turned his own attentions more fully to your grandfather. I became completely irrelevant… at least, until I came of age. I may not have had the Force, but I was still his daughter, still – in some sense – his heir. So he married me off to one of his most loyal officers. Brendol Hux."

Poe's blood goes colder still. "You… had no choice in the matter?"

"I was talked into it," Orinna replies. "The truth is, the match wasn't a difficult sell. I was desperate to get away from my father's direct sphere of influence. And Brendol… well. He was older than me, but he treated me like a person, not a pawn, and he was good to me. In the beginning, at least. He took me to Arkanis, where he was running his academy for the Empire's elite soldiers. That was where Alek was born."

She sighs, softly. "When I called my father, to tell him he had a grandson, there was only one question on his lips. _'What is his midichlorian count?'_ When I told him it was negligible, that Alek wasn't Force-sensitive either, that was the end of it."

"…he… he… disowned you?" Kylo asks. He's thinking worse than that, but he can't even voice it. What parent could do that to their child? He knows if he'd been born insensitive that his father would have rejoiced, and his mother been secretly relieved, but – this…

It's almost more than he can listen to. "What happened?"

"He disowned me," Orinna answers. "He disowned his grandson. That was the last time we spoke. It was the final proof that I was a dead end, a failed experiment. I was left to raise my boy with Brendol. Four years later… the second Death Star was destroyed over Endor, and my father was killed by his apprentice. The Empire fell."

"But you stayed with your husband?" Poe asks.

"Yes. Where else could I have gone? If anyone knew my lineage, I would be hunted, persecuted, hated, and my son would suffer the same. Brendol protected us both. He and his allies quickly began work on creating a successor to the Empire: the group that eventually became the First Order. He continued training troops, using the Arkanis method, wanting to build up an army with which to regain the Empire's former glory. And… that is when everything really fell apart."

And, softly, Orinna begins to tell them a second story.

The story of what made General Alek Hux the man he is.

***

_**The Arkanis Academy** _  
_Seven years after the Battle of Endor_

It is raining on Arkanis.

It rains a lot on Arkanis. When Alek was very small, he used to like running around in it, chasing the raindrops, imagining he could bend them to his will. Like a _Jedi_. Alek has never met a Jedi, never seen one, but he knows the kind of things they can do.

Although… he always thought it would be better to be a Sith. They were more powerful, after all. A Jedi had never ruled the galaxy, but a Sith had, and Alek always wondered when they would again.

He doesn't think those things now. Those were the thoughts of a child, who played in the rain and climbed the walls, and dreamed of planets far away. Now he is _eleven_ , and eleven is _big_ , and it's time to be a _man_.

Alek reaches the door to his father's office, and raises his hand to knock and…

He stops. He can hear voices from inside: angry, shouting voices. He knows he shouldn't listen. Knows he should either knock and go in, or walk away and come back later.

But he doesn't. He listens.

"…just a _boy_ , Brendol!" That's the voice of his mother, and she sounds upset.

She often sounds upset.

"He is not just a boy, Orinna." Now his father, angry and firm. "He's eleven years old. Most of my troops train from _five_. And I am done holding him back just because you want to coddle him!"

"Coddle?" his mother repeats. "What you do to those children is heartless, Brendol. _Heartless_. You rip their childhoods from them. Even my father didn't do that to me, and you know how –"

Alek doesn't know anything about his mother's parents. They are never mentioned. He knows a bit about his father's, but that's all. He listens harder.

"Don't drag your father's name into this. He's dead. And he didn't give a damn about you when he was alive. You don't get to score points off the fact that you're Palpatine's bastard daughter…"

There's a harsh, sharp crack, and Alek knows one of his parents has hit the other. But he doesn't really think about it, because he's too busy pressing his hands over his own mouth to keep from screaming.

_Palpatine? **Emperor** Palpatine? Emperor Palpatine was his mother's father? His… his **grandfather**?_

"Call me that again and I'll tell our little boy everything," Alek's mother threatens. "He'll know the truth. He'll know who his grandfather was, and being _your_ heir will be irrelevant."

"Raise your hand to me again and I'll blow your brains out in the courtyard," his father counters. "In front of our son. Then we'll know if he's a man or not."

Alek can't listen to any more. He turns, and he runs, and he doesn't stop until he gets back to his own room.

***

Three months pass.

In those three months, Alek starts training to become a soldier. He knows it makes his mother sad, but it also makes his father happy, and most importantly it makes _him_ **stronger**.

The training is exhausting. Alek's father tells him it's because he's so far behind, and that he needs to work even harder to catch up with the other children his age. It isn't easy to begin with – in fact it isn't _ever_ easy – but Alek never gives up. Oh no. No matter how tiring it is to go on runs in the rain before the sun has risen, or to fight round after round against boys twice his size, Alek keeps going.

He wants to. He needs to. He is the Heir of the Emperor, the son of Commandant Hux, and one day he will see his family's legacy restored. He will prove that his grandfather was wrong to give up on them. He will prove greater than every last one of his father's soldiers.

He will.

"Honey, you're going to do yourself serious damage," his mother says to him one morning, when he comes limping in from his run. "Look at you. You're in pain. Let me help."

Alek pushes her hand away. "No. I don't need help. If I'm going to be a great soldier, I must never give in to weakness."

"It isn't weak to need help, Alek. It isn't weak to accept it. Aren't soldiers stronger when they work together? When they help each other?"

"If you _were_ strong, maybe it would be different," he replies. "But you ran away. And now I have to carry your weakness too."

His mother looks at him. "What did I run away from?"

"From the Emperor. From your father." There. Now she knows he knows. "You ran away from him, and it made you weak. But I will never run away from mine, and I will never be weak."

"My father was not a good person," his mother says, and her voice is shaking, and some tiny part of him is hurt by that. But he stamps the feeling down, knowing he must never give in to it.

"You don't have to be a good person to be a great one," Alek replies, and strides – still limping – from the room.

***

Four more months.

Alek is getting stronger. His father is pleased. Since the day when Alek first made it clear he knew who his grandfather was, his father has talked to him about it. Only a little, but he has, and it's made all the difference.

"You don't need the Force to be a leader," Brendol Hux tells him. "You don't need to be a Sith or a Jedi. What you need is to be a _soldier_. And you will prove it, my son. You will be a powerful leader, a powerful _general_ , and you will do it without the Force. You will do it because _I_ made it possible, and because _you_ worked hard for it."

"Are you proud of me, father?" Alek asks.

"I will be proud of you when you have earned it."

That only gives Alek reason to work even harder.

***

One more month.

It's the middle of the night when Alek hears footsteps in his room. He leaps up, reaching for his blaster – it only has a stun setting, but his father still insists he carry it – and points it at the source of the sound.

The light flicks on, and Alek sees his mother. Her face is stained with tears, and she's dressed for travelling.

"Mother?" he whispers. "What's happening?"

"We have to go," Orinna Hux says to her son. "We can't stay here anymore."

"But I don't want to go. I want to stay on Arkanis and become a great soldier."

His mother sighs, and moves over to him, putting a hand on the side of his face. "My poor boy," she murmurs. "I love you so much, and I promise you _will_ be a great soldier one day. But we can't stay here. We have to leave, and get away from your father before it's too late. I am your mother and I am asking you to trust me. Please, Alek. Please."

Alek nods, solemnly. "I understand, mother."

***

They make preparations to run. Alek's mother doesn't explain a lot, but she tells him that they have to go, that his father is dangerous, that everything will be OK.

That she loves him, more than anything in the whole galaxy.

Mother and son creep through their own house, towards the front hallway. Alek goes along dutifully, staying quiet, not saying a word. They go up to the front door, and his mother reaches to tap in the code to deactivate the alarm, and let them out.

The door slides open. It's now or never.

Alek pulls out the stun-blaster and points it at her.

"Guards!" he shouts. "Guards!"

People come running. His father has an extensive personal staff, and a number of them appear within seconds, seeing what's happening and freezing in obvious surprise, their own weapons drawn. Alek doesn't move the whole time, keeping the blaster pointed at his mother.

"Why?" she whispers, and she's sad, and her eyes are full of pain, and Alek doesn't feel any of it.

"You know why," he answers.

Soon, his father comes hurrying down the stairs into the wide hallway, expression full of anger and resignation.

"Orinna. I knew this would happen. I _knew_ you would try to take my son."

"You're destroying him!" Orinna Hux throws back. "You're turning him into… into…"

"Into _what_?"

"Into **you**!"

Brendol pulls a weapon from his belt and points it at his wife, and Alek knows for sure that this one has settings other than stun.

No feeling. No weakness. None.

"Get out," Brendol growls. "Leave Arkanis. If you're still planetside in an hour, my people will hunt you down and kill you. If I ever see you again, if my son ever sees you again, my people will _hunt you down and kill you_."

"I won't leave him," Orinna replies.

"I'm _not_ going with you," Alek insists. "I never was. Father told me you would try something like this, and I told him I would never allow it. _Never_."

"Alek," his mother whispers, eyes full of tears again. "Alek… please…"

"Get out," Alek says, firmly, echoing his father's words.

There's no other option. They'll kill her if she stays. Face wracked with grief, Orinna Hux turns, stepping through the open door and running off into the night.

Alek moves to stand in the doorway, watching the silhouette of his mother fade into the darkness, vanishing from his life.

And then he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"Well done," Brendol Hux tells his son. "I'm proud of you."

***

_**Dathomir** _  
_Present Time_

As Orinna falls silent, all Poe can do is stare at her in horror.

"He betrayed you?" the pilot whispers. "He betrayed you when he was _eleven_?"

Orinna nods. "Yes. That was the last time I saw him."

Children. It's always the children who suffer. It's always the case: stripped of innocence, made a brother or sister of Death, turned into tools. Kylo feels – somehow – memories he'd heard snatches of, thoughts he'd never pried too deeply into… they resolve. Snap into focus, make horrible sense.

He almost can't speak. "Do you think there's anything left in him to save?" he asks.

Kylo wants her to say yes. He wants it so very, very badly. A boy, turned weapon. A boy, dragged from his mother's arms. A terrible legacy overshadowing him. Oh, he _knows that too well_.

"I don't know," Orinna says. Her voice shakes as she speaks, but she pauses, breathes, composes herself. "I have always wanted to believe it, but at the same time… he was always his father's son. His… grandfather's grandson."

"You know who my grandfather was, don't you?" Kylo asks, leaning a little towards her. "You know Darth Vader was my mother's father?"

The older woman nods. "Yes. I do. I… used to hear stories of the two of you, at the helm of the First Order, and wonder… what would people think, if they knew that Vader's heir and Palpatine's heir were united like that? Although now it seems you weren't so united after all. You… left the Order?"

"Yes. Many months ago, now. I met Poe, and he… convinced me there was another way. I helped destroy your son's superweapon, and the Supreme Leader's flagship… with more than a little help from the rest of the Resistance. And you will find no one more dedicated to that end than Poe and I," he says.

"Mrs Hux," Poe starts out. "We –"

"Orinna," she corrects, gently.

"…Orinna. We didn't come here to put you at risk. We didn't come here to bring you further pain. We came here because we desperately need a way to stop your son, and we hoped you might be able to help us."

There is a heavy silence.

"What you're asking… it may not be possible," Orinna says. "I have not seen my son in person since he was eleven. Since he pointed a weapon at me and told me to run. He won't want to see me, and he won't want to listen to me."

"You'd be surprised," Kylo says. "If he's… if I know anything, then there's every chance that something in him can still be saved, can still know right from wrong. But you're the best person in the galaxy to help him remember… family don't stop loving one another, no matter how much they hate one another, too. Believe me. I _know_."

Orinna turns away for a moment, hands clasped tightly together, lifted to her lips, obviously thinking. And then she drops her arms, without looking back at the two men. "What do you want me to do?" she asks.

"Come with us. We'll make overtures towards him. Ask for a ceasefire. Discuss terms. He can't be without any sense of the risks he's taking," Kylo says. "Appeal to his… humanity."

"I am not so sure it is there anymore," Orinna answers. "But… you are right. I am still his mother, and I have to try."

She turns back, now, expression resolute. "I will go with you. I cannot promise that anything I do will make a difference. But… I can't let this last chance pass me by. After all… _you_ came back. So maybe… maybe Alek can too."

And the daughter of Emperor Palpatine nods. "Lead the way."


	25. Mothers & Sons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, all. We're back! We were delighted by the response to our last chapter - we've had that reveal in the pipelines for so long! Now have some more, in which the Knights of Eigengrau have a visitor, and General Hux has a bad day. And a plan.
> 
> And, what's that you say? Some massive plot on the horizon? Surely not. Might be wise to start stocking up on the liquor and hugs, though. Y'know, just in case...

It's early evening on Tahanan.

Orinna Hux is here with the Resistance now, having spent some time since her arrival in discussion with General Organa and several other members of the Resistance Command Team. There is a great deal to consider with regards to their next move, and much to plan.

Seizing the opportunity to get some time to themselves, the Knights of Eigengrau head off into the forest. Technically, this is so Kylo and Rey can spar a little, but really it's more to give the four of them the chance to talk in peace.

As the two Force-users duel, lightsabres flashing through the air, Poe and Finn sit on the edge of the clearing, watching.

"So, how did things go with the Pathfinders' latest mission?" Poe asks.

"Well… we caught the people we were looking for. The ones behind the bombings, the so-called 'New Rebellion'. Took them to the black site… you know. The usual." Finn looks up at Rey, then back to Poe.

"Rey questioned them, but they have no idea who's pulling their strings. They think they're patriots." 

"She did, did she?" Poe says, looking over at the two duellists. He doubts that Rey will have gone as far as Kylo could… but, at the same time, he wonders at the effect it will have on her.

But, then again, this is the whole point. Both sides. _Balance_.

"They would," he goes on, the moment passing. "The First Order wouldn't want anything that could lead back to them. I dread to think what it will have taken to get them so convinced…"

He can imagine, though.

"It'll disrupt future attacks, though. Unless he's got multiple cells. In which case… we keep fighting, I guess." Finn shrugs. He seems relatively up-beat. "The unit worked great. Real good. Couldn't ask for better."

"Now that part, I have no doubt about," Poe tells him, with a smile. "They all speak so highly of you, my dad especially. The speed with which you pulled them together and got them into this… it's damned impressive, Finn. You should be proud."

"Yeah, well, I learned from the best, didn't I?" The ex-trooper winks at him, and then a sound from the two fighters makes him look up. Rey's springing off a tree-trunk, and Kylo's whirling his blade in a bright circle, and if he didn't know they're good together, Finn might worry for his girlfriend. 

Poe watches for a moment as well, as red and blue sing through the air with breathless precision. The great thing about these sparring matches is the fact that he can relax and enjoy them without having to worry, losing himself in the beauty and the form.

He still wishes he could join in. But he'll settle for a ringside seat.

It's then that he realises he and Finn aren't the only audience Kylo and Rey have, and nearly jumps a mile when he catches the flickering blue at the far side of the clearing.

Poe leaps to his feet at once, and Finn does the same. "Kylo," Poe says, carefully. "Rey. We have company."

"Do not stop on my account," says the Force-ghost of Darth Revan, with a little smile.

Kylo does stop, because you _do_ when someone suddenly appears from beyond the pyre to talk to you. He makes sure Rey won't take his head off, then turns lightly to the long-dead Sith.

"I'm sure you've watched this sort of thing a thousand times by now," he demurs. "Unless you simply came to observe, and not to speak with us?"

"I am quite capable of doing both," Revan replies, and there's a definite edge of snark to her tone. "But… we can focus, if you prefer."

Poe can't help the feeling that the Sith of Old wants to join in, though luckily he doesn't get to find out if that would even be possible, because Revan paces closer, speaking again as she does.

"The Knights of Ren found something of mine," she says.

"…why do I think that's a bad thing?" Finn mumbles under his breath.

Kylo's hand slips along his sabre-hilt, his fingers using the sensation to ground himself. "It isn't good. And I'm assuming we need to take it back, whatever it is?"

" _He_ may well do the taking back on his own, if he realises what is really going on here," Revan answers.

And something clicks in Poe's mind. "The droid," he says, softly. Still not sure how he feels about talking to a Force-ghost. "The droid from Midwanjontû, the one Tovim told us about. The one the Knights of Ren found."

Revan nods. "Yes. His name is HK-47, and he is mine. _Was_ mine. In my glory days, I built an empire and I built a droid, and I know which of the two I miss most."

"He must be quite the droid to still be operational all these years later." Kylo knows even Threepio isn't nearly that age, and the protocol unit has more… quirks than languages, now. 

"HK is a hunter-killer unit, with more than a few personal touches," Revan tells them. "I built him to be nigh-on unstoppable, and it seems I did so even better than I realised. After my death, it appears that HK-47 continued looking for the Eye of Chikara – and I believe he found it. But, more than that, I believe he was there when it was taken. So you have to find him, you have to get hold of him, because the likelihood is that my little killer can point you towards where the Eye is now."

Poe isn't sure what he finds more unsettling: the fact that the Knights of Ren might be holding the key to all this, or the idea of Revan referring to an assassin droid as 'my little killer'.

"And I take it he's – well – on the _Finalizer_?" Kylo asks. "No chance you could find a way to sneak us on there, is there?" Because it would be very helpful if an incorporeal entity could help them break through the security measures of the First Order.

"…why didn't we think to ask that before?" Finn looks quietly hopeful.

"He is," Revan answers. "I did consider appearing in full-force to young Danika Ren and her compatriots, but your former master poisoned their minds to the ways of the Sith, and I doubt it would have the effect you would hope for. Besides… this is your fight. And it is one I believe you will win, if you keep your focus."

"Worth a try," Kylo says. "How should we convince your droid to give us the information? And… how do we know the Order doesn't already have it?" 

Because – damn. If they do, this could all be over very, very quickly. And not in the way they would like. 

And now, Revan smiles again. "He is careful. Cautious. He will not give away such crucial information unless he thinks it appropriate. In short… I doubt he would give it to anyone unless he believed they were worthy of being followed in my stead. Kylo…"

The way she says his name is suddenly so very personal: not a mentor to a pupil, or an elder to a younger, but something much closer. "…Tell him you are a Sith, a Darth, the Master of the Knights of Eigengrau. Tell him you are my heir. He will question it, of course, but your words will ring true… and when he realises that, he will rapidly switch sides."

"I can do that." Although Kylo does wonder what kind of droid he's about to try to take under his wing. Hunter-killer. That sounds delightfully like something you bring back to meet your parents. Even if it will possibly be useful as another weapon in their arsenal. 

And the droid means a lot to her. That makes sense, too. He understands how close a relationship you can have with one, though he's never created one of his own. He grew up around Threepio and Artoo, and he couldn't imagine them ever… not being. Not existing.

"I'll take care of him," he promises. "No matter what."

"Please do," Revan replies. "I would ask you to forgive his little quirks, but I am not sorry for them. Though I suspect you will like him in the end, more or less."

Poe is not at all sure if this constitutes a good thing or a bad thing, but if this droid might know where the Eye is, they have to find him regardless. And… then he starts contemplating the idea of being back on track to locating the Eye and… his mind sort of draws a blank.

"I'm guessing him being a droid means you can't talk to him like you do to us?" Finn asks. "Because that would save us a lot of time, if you could." 

"Alas, you are correct," Revan answers. "I am only able to speak with you and Poe because of your Force-bonds with Rey and Kylo. Were I able to communicate with HK myself, he would already be away from the First Order and en route here. The mechanics of existing as a Force-apparition are… a little tiresome."

But she smiles. "I suppose it reduces the risk that one of us will try to re-conquer the galaxy from beyond the grave."

"Aren't you already doing it by proxy?" Kylo asks, with a little grin of his own. "After all, it's your Order we stand for." Even if they've made it their own, by now. 

"I like to think so," Revan admits. "And yet, at the same time, you have the chance to do what I never could. Do not forget that. You have all come so very far since Eigengrau. But… I sense something ahead of you. Something that will test you to the limits. And I know you are strong enough to overcome it."

"The Eye." Kylo's face wrinkles in distaste. "It is… powerful. I don't know if was always as Dark as it is, but even without being in the same _solar system_ as it, I know it's bad news."

He'd hoped to use it: to bend it, hone it, make use of it. But he's becoming increasingly convinced the crystal wants the same thing from them.

Revan nods. "Yes. I understand now – perhaps better than I ever did in life – what it is capable of. Be careful. Be mindful. And do not lose sight of what you are really fighting for."

Her eyes flick to Poe, and he feels cold for a moment, though he doesn't quite dare ask what that look is supposed to mean.

"I'm beginning to think we destroy it outright," Kylo admits, glancing to Rey and Finn, but not quite able to look at Poe when he says it. "It's more trouble than it is worth."

"Hey, I won't object," Finn says. "Not that I know enough about it, but if you say it's bad…"

"It's too dangerous to have around," Rey agrees. "Even if it has good applications – and I believe it does – ultimately… it leaves only darkness in its wake. The safer option would be to remove it altogether."

"I… will bow to the majority opinion, of course," Poe adds, carefully. "Although part of me still worries we're giving up a huge advantage."

Revan looks right at him, and it's like catching the light of a sun full-on, and Poe has to look away. Perhaps it's for the best that he can't see Force-ghosts on his own, because this one, certainly, seems to look too deep.

"You sound like someone I once knew, a long time ago," Revan replies. "And that… did not end well."

"If we had enough people to cleanse it of all the Darkness in it, maybe," Kylo admits. "But we don't. There's two of us, three if we count Tovim. It's taking us all our time to clean the crystals in Snoke's sabres, and those had a fraction of the Darkness in them that the Eye does."

He does turn to Poe, now, and looks him square on. "Once upon a time, the Eye could have been used for good. But now… with our numbers… it's too far gone."

"It is what I would do, were I alive now," Revan concurs. "And you know how long I spent searching for it."

"Better that than the Knights of Ren having it," Poe concedes. That much, at least, he agrees with. The last thing he wants is _that lot_ getting hold of it, especially when their First Order allies could make use of it too.

But… still.

"Poe…" Kylo's voice wavers. He can feel the conflict in him, and he walks closer, putting a hand out to him. "Some power is not worth what you pay to get it." 

"I know," Poe answers, though it's obvious he's not wholly convinced. "And if you believe the Eye is too much, we will destroy it."

"Remember what I said," Revan adds. "Do not lose sight of what you are _really_ fighting for." Another little smile. "And tell HK-47 he outdid himself this time."

A slight tilt of the head. "May the Force be with you."

And the Force-ghost vanishes from view.

"…that never gets normal, does it?" Finn asks. 

"No, not really," Kylo agrees. His voice is distant, as he thinks about this some more. He's becoming increasingly worried about how they'll handle the crystal when they get it. 

"I never thought I'd be glad to have a long-dead Sith on my side, but… I am," Rey adds. "Although I think she wishes she could join in rather more."

"I can understand that," Poe says. "Watching all this from the sidelines must be a little frustrating."

Being stuck in the middle of it is difficult enough.

"Don't worry," Kylo tells Poe. "If I decide to talk to anyone while I'm dead, and you're with me, I'll pass all your messages on." 

"I'd expect nothing less," Poe replies, with a smile, trying to shake the cold feeling that the preceding conversation has left him with. "Well. I guess we need to find this droid of Revan's, and convince him to join us. Our best hope is that he's there the next time we run into the Knights of Ren."

"I'm pretty sure once he learns we're her legacy, her adherents… he'll join us rapidly. You don't survive for thousands of years following your Master's last wish that you remember them having without some serious loyalty to them." It's somewhat terrifying, all told. 

Kylo has to wonder what else the droid knows. He's been 'alive' for longer than anything else he knows of. 

"And imagine the things he could tell us about," Rey adds. "To have existed during the days of the Old Republic and the Sith Empire… an actual living witness."

"It's going to be an interesting conversation, that's for sure," Poe agrees. "And it might happen sooner rather than later, if Orinna Hux will agree to a plan to help us draw out her son."

"How… is she doing?" Finn asks, head to one side. "It's been, what, twenty years since she saw him?"

"Twenty-three," Poe answers. "And it's hard to say. She's obviously learned to shut a lot of her feelings down – to cope with it, most likely – but it's clear how much she's still hurting over what happened. But I don't think she would have come with us if she didn't want to do something. Precisely what she will agree to… we'll find out, once she and Leia are done talking. And…"

Before he can say any more, there's footsteps between the trees, and – as he turns – Poe sees Snap Wexley walking towards them.

And, from the look in his eyes, something bad has happened.

"What is it?" Poe asks at once.

"Emergency Command Team meeting," Snap says, giving them all a nod. "You remember how Admiral Statura's been worried because Copperwing went dark again?"

Poe nods, suddenly understanding, even though he doesn't say a word.

"Well, we've just gotten intel from a communiqué intercepted somewhere in the Outer Rim," Snap goes on. "It's Copperwing. The First Order found him."

A beat. A beat, filled with cold horror.

"He's dead."

***

It's late evening on the _Finalizer_ , and General Hux is working.

He's always working. Of course he is. The First Order won't run itself. Plus, keeping his mind busy stops it wandering; stops him dwelling too much on his Force-using 'allies' and whatever it is that they're up to. With every passing day, he trusts them less and less, and he's not happy about that strange droid they've picked up. Not happy at all.

He can't help thinking he made quite an impact on Daria Ren, though, the day he and Phasma took her to Arkanis Prime. Of the two twins, it's obvious which is the stronger and which the weaker.

Perhaps that will come in useful, later. Information is power, after all.

He's interrupted, midway through a report from Arkanis Beta, by the ringing of the door chime.

Hux sighs. "Come in," he calls.

The Lieutenant who answers the door looks pale, and looks very much like he is the bearer of bad tidings. He snaps to overly sharp attention. "Sir. I… I am afraid I have… there's been a message received from the Resistance." 

"Out with it, Mitaka," Hux says, a little shortly. "You may be accomplished at catching spies, but you still have a lot to learn about getting to the point."

He can't deny the effectiveness of the Lieutenant's intel work, however. Without him, they might never have caught the Resistance spy known as Copperwing; the man who betrayed the _Decimator_ , not once but twice.

Hux can still remember the echoes of the man's screams as he was interrogated. That had been a… _satisfying_ afternoon.

"They have a woman they claim is your mother, Orinna Hux. They want to negotiate with you." You, and not 'us'. This is a personal matter, of course. 

The words are like being hit in the face with a TIE-fighter. A whole TIE-fighter. Hux rises to his feet at once, fixing Mitaka with a steely gaze that is the _only_ way he can hide the sudden storm inside his own head.

" _What?_ " he says, sharply. "Impossible. Orinna Hux disappeared decades ago. I doubt she is even still alive."

"Apparently she is. Or someone claiming to be her is. They… they say they found her, and she wants to meet with you, Sir." Mitaka's jaw and throat work, and he stands as proudly as he can. "I can arrange for verification to take place, if you wish?"

"Do it," Hux replies, at once. "If it is her… I need to know. And if not, the Resistance will pay twice over for _daring_ to do something like this."

And yet… deep down, he's sure it is true. His father died less than a decade ago, and his mother was notably younger, and… 

Don't think about it. Do not. Focus on the matter in hand.

"I assume they are dictating where this meeting will take place?"

"Yes. Onderon. It's sparsely populated, Inner Rim. It's… acceptable." Mitaka's head tilts. "Can you provide me with some questions to verify her identity, Sir?" 

Hux turns away, pacing to the window and staring out of it, eyes fixed on the black of space. At the back of his mind, deep down – where he never ventures – he can suddenly hear the rain on Arkanis. He remembers the smell of the forests just before dawn; the feeling of aching limbs, morning, noon and night, as he pushed himself to live up to his father's legacy.

He remembers his mother, her eyes growing sadder with each passing day. He remembers watching her disappear into the darkness, a traitor, never to be seen again.

He remembers his father's hand on his shoulder.

"Yes," he says, not turning back, realising he's been silent for a telling amount of time. "I broke a bone when I was nine. Ask her what it was. Ask her what I had on the wall of my bedroom on Arkanis. And… ask her what colour my father was wearing, the night she _betrayed us and ran away_."

Hux barely manages to get the last few words out, so overcome with anger. Anger at the hated Resistance, for their audacity, and anger at his mother, for daring to still be alive. For living, when Brendol Hux is gone.

"Yes, Sir," Mitaka replies. "I'll make sure I get the answers before we agree to anything. And… I'll need your terms, and who you want to attend any such meeting?"

Mitaka does not presume to make predictions about this. It is far, far too personal for him to be presumptive. 

Slow, deep breaths, Hux tells himself. Do not lose control in front of an underling. Even when that underling is Lieutenant Mitaka.

"If we are to meet on Onderon, it must be somewhere discreet," Hux answers, finally turning back to face him. "I refuse to stroll down a street in Iziz where anyone may see us, regardless of what the Resistance wants."

A moment of thought. He has to play this right. He _has_ to.

"Tell them we will meet in the ruins of Jyrenne Base," the General decides. "It was completely destroyed during the days of the Rebellion, and the site was never reclaimed. That should be sufficiently out of the way. And this is non-negotiable. If Onderon is where they wish to meet, Jyrenne is where it will happen."

A pause. A beat. An idea.

"And I want Leia Organa there. If the leader of the First Order will be in attendance, the leader of the Resistance should be as well."

"What shall I do when they refuse?" Because Mitaka is certain they will. "Should you have some demands you're prepared to drop, so we can give them a sense of progress? And is there anything… you wish me to block?"

"When they refuse, tell them we have nothing further to discuss," Hux all but snaps. "They will meet my terms, or they will not get what they want."

And then they and my mother can continue to sit on whichever backwater rock they're currently hiding on, for as long as it takes. Hux is in no hurry to rush to this meeting. If _they_ are, they will co-operate. If not… he won't shed any tears.

"No other members of the First Order's top brass will be in attendance," he goes on. "That is also non-negotiable, but they are free to apply the same rule to their own people. And I will be accompanied by three Knights of Ren."

Not that he _wants_ them around, but if he's insisting on Leia Organa being present, it's pretty much a given that Kylo whatever-his-last-name-is-now will also be there. Which means Hux needs to be prepared. Plus, he can bring the three who don't talk much. It will vex Danika to no end.

"Understood. Do you want me to get sniper units there, or… will their Force-users be able to sense them, even if they are concealed?" Mitaka knows a little more than most about Force-users, but not enough to tell anything for sure. 

"They will be able to sense them," Hux answers. "Both sides will be able to detect duplicity in the other. If this is to go ahead, we will have to play it straight. The only consolation is that they will be forced to do the same."

That makes sense. "I'll ensure we wear under-weave protection, to prevent them taking shots. I… assume you will want me present, also?" Mitaka is reasonably highly placed, but he obviously doubts he counts as 'top brass'. 

Hux nods. "Of course. I need _someone_ I can trust. Make this happen, Lieutenant. But concede nothing without speaking with me first."

"Of course. If there's nothing else, Sir?"

"Let us hope not," Hux replies, tone as dry as Tatooine. "Dismissed, Lieutenant."

The younger man nods, heels snapping together, and he strides out as quickly as his long legs allow. 

The General waits until he's alone before he moves, turning from his desk to the window behind it once more. His mind, usually so focused and certain and sure, is suddenly a tumult of thought and memory, and he knows he has to get it under control.

He can. He will. He does not bow to emotion or doubt or weakness. _They_ bow to _him_.

Nevertheless… _this_ is unexpected. And unwelcome. And **unacceptable**. That his mother lives is not wholly a surprise. That the Resistance has somehow found her is rather more so. One person among trillions. _**One**_.

Hux has never even contemplated the possibility that he would see her again. And now… now he has to do it with the hated Resistance for an audience. That alone makes him want to wipe them from the face of the galaxy.

But, at the same time… here he stands, leader of the First Order, Emperor in all but name. He is the man his father made him, the man his father was _proud of_ , and he has lived up to his grandfather's legacy. And he's done it **without** the Force. Without that crutch. He got _himself_ to this point and nothing and no one can take that away.

So that is what his mother will see, when they meet.

Proof that he was right, and she was wrong.

***

The news about Copperwing hits the Resistance hard. The briefing that follows is short and to the point: little is known, but all updates from Statura's most valued spy have ceased, and the communiqué intercepted in the Outer Rim states quite clearly that a Resistance spy using that designation was detected, outed and killed.

It doesn't take much to put two and two together.

"We just can't seem to catch a break at the moment," Poe says to Kylo – tone a little sombre – as they head out from the briefing. They're due to meet up with Leia and Orinna, to discuss the response to the overtures that have apparently already been made to the First Order.

"We found Orinna," Kylo points out. "That's one hell of a coup. And something I doubt Hux ever factored in as a possibility. Don't put down our efforts. We got rid of the 'New Rebellion', too."

"For now," Poe replies. "I doubt they're gone for good. If nothing else, the First Order will just make more of them… But you're right about Orinna. She might tip things back in our favour."

And she won't be making her son's life any easier, which has to be a plus.

"It makes more sense why he always hated me so much, now," the Sith muses. "I can't imagine being around a Force-sensitive with the Leader's favour was ever easy for him to stomach. I did wonder why he was so violently opposed to the Force, and working for… well. Snoke."

"It must have been torture for him," Poe agrees. "Not that I would shed a single tear for that man. But… it certainly puts things in context."

Poe has never met Hux face to face, but – through Kylo – he has an idea of what the General is really like. And this… this explains a lot, and it hammers home the danger that Hux represents. The depth of his fanaticism.

"She isn't what I expected. Although… I don't know what I did expect. She's… relatively sane, all things considered." Kylo is pleased by this, because the ones without reasoning are always the hardest to deal with.

Poe nods. "Yes. _Surprisingly_ sane, given her lineage. To go through what she did…"

It hurts, in a weird way, to think about it. "I just hope we can do right by her. Give her… I don't know, some sort of closure."

"I do worry there's more," Kylo adds. "Clones, you know. Why would he stop at just one, or did he think she'd give birth to a Force-sensitive, or did he get stopped before he did any more?" It doesn't bear thinking about, in a way. Miniature almost-Palpatines. Running around. Ruining the galaxy.

"We're going to have to keep our eyes open for them," Poe says. "No doubt Admiral Statura is already formulating a new intel ring to deal with it. After all, if there are more, and even one of them has the Force… they'd be unbelievably dangerous."

If we had the Eye of Chikara, we could find out for sure. But Poe doesn't say this out loud.

The memory of the loss of Copperwing is a punch to the gut, and Kylo winces. The life of spies is fraught, and often (sadly) short. Maybe they should take genetic samples from Orinna Hux before she leaves, so they can panel a check on possible Palpatine-clones? He makes a mental note to mention it to the medics.

"I think we should avoid mentioning the loss of Copperwing to Orinna. My mother already knows."

"Seconded," Poe agrees. "The last thing we want is to remind her how dangerous all of this is. Plus there's the fact where her son most likely oversaw the execution of our most valued agent. Best not to bring it up at all."

Best he doesn't think about it, either.

"You ready?" Kylo nods at the Organa-Solo house. "I hope Mom had the sense to keep Dad away from her. You know what he gets like… if he was ever an ambassador, I'm sure he could get the Wookiees to wage a war against their own trees…"

Poe nods. "I'm ready. Time to find out what they've decided to do."

The daughter of Emperor Palpatine and the daughter of Darth Vader. It's certainly – another – turnout for the books.

Kylo waves at the security lock, having been given access a long time ago. It alerts deeper in the house, and he wouldn't waltz in if he wasn't expected. 

"Hey," he says, as he walks into the living room to find the two women deep in conversation.

Leia and Orinna both turn as the two men step in. "Ah," Leia says, "there you are. I'm glad. Things are already moving. We have made contact with the First Order, and told them that Orinna is with us, and asked for a meeting."

"A face to face meeting?" Poe asks. "You think General Hux will agree?"

"I hope so," Orinna answers. "I realise he may refuse. But… I wouldn't have come here if I wasn't ready to try."

"He's full of his own importance, of course he'll--" Kylo realises who he's in front of, then, and his teeth slam tight shut. "I'm sorry. That was rude of me."

Even if Hux is a genocidal maniac, this _is_ his mother. His only (known) living relative.

"It's all right," Orinna says. "I know that working with him must have been… difficult. No doubt he is just like his father."

"What terms did you set for the meeting?" Poe asks.

"Initially, we've said we want it on Onderon," Leia answers. "But we're expecting to have to negotiate a little."

"Probably a lot," Orinna says.

"Probably a lot," Leia agrees.

At this point, there's a knock at the door, and Leia calls the newcomer through. It's one of the comms team from the central bunker: a Twi'lek with aquamarine skin and dark eyes.

"Apologies for the intrusion," she says, "but we've just had a response back from the First Order."

"And?" Leia replies at once, obviously eager to hear it. "What terms are they dictating?"

"They've agreed to meet on Onderon," the young woman answers, "but they're insisting it be in the ruins of Jyrenne Base, the old Imperial ordnance centre. They've also sent questions to verify our guest's identity."

"We expected as much," Orinna says. "Fire away."

"Firstly… what bone did your son break when he was nine?"

An odd look comes to Orinna's eyes. "His finger," she answers. "The index finger on his right hand. He fell off a high wall in the courtyard."

"All right. Secondly… what did he have on his bedroom wall on Arkanis?"

"An alternative plan of attack for the Battle of Endor," Orinna replies, somewhat wryly. "One he insisted would have guaranteed victory for the Empire. He came up with it himself." A beat, and a distant look. "I always thought he was right, too. And the last question?"

Now the young Twi'lek looks a little uncomfortable. "What colour was your husband wearing, the night you left?"

Orinna looks down. "Grey," she answers, softly. "Grey, with dark blue trim."

"Very well," says the woman, "I will have those answers relayed. General, are you content to the meeting being in Jyrenne Base?"

Leia nods. "Yes. It isn't ideal, but if it makes this happen, we'll take the risk."

"Of course. There is… one more thing. They're insisting on you being present for the meeting as well, General Organa."

"Absolutely not," Kylo cuts in, before his mother can get a word in edgeways. "We're not exposing her. She's far too high priority for this. I'll go, and some of the Pathfinders, and Poe… but she's not part of the bargaining."

"Kylo," Leia says, gently, "we have to make this work. And I've seen more than my fair share of dangerous situations, you know that. I expected them to insist on something like this, and I'm prepared to do it."

"But it's a _trap_ ," Poe insists, very much with Kylo when it comes to the relative merits – or lack thereof – of this plan.

"I'm well-aware of the risks," Leia answers. "And it isn't as though Orinna and I will be going alone. You and Kylo will come with us."

She turns to the young comms tech. "Relay those answers to the First Order," she says. "And agree to their terms, both me and Jyrenne Base."

The woman nods. "Yes, General," she answers, and – giving them all a nod – she withdraws from the room.

"You're making a mistake." Kylo's angry, and he doesn't bother to hide that in his voice. Self-righteous fury, mingled with panic and concern flood through his tones. "You don't know what he's like, you… he's not _safe_. There's no…" Honour. No honour in him.

This is so hard with Orinna present.

"You can say it," Orinna tells him, softly. "I know what my son is. I know what he's done. It hurts, but… it's the truth."

"And I know this isn't ideal," Leia concedes. "I know. But we have to try."

"He won't stick to terms. Or… he'll find some way to screw us over." Kylo is sure of it. "His hatred of the Republic is… it's worrying. The Starkiller was _his_ baby. It was capable of five times the destruction of the Death Star. You don't just…"

Talk him out of it. Which is what they're planning. This, he realises, is a mistake.

"I… maybe we… should rethink this."

"I know you do," Leia says, taking a step closer to her son. "I know this is dangerous. I know you don't like it, and I know your father won't like it, either. But I _also_ know we have to try. And maybe you're right, maybe we can't save Alek. Maybe he is so lost in his hatred that nothing can pull him back. But people would have said the same about you, mere months ago… and look how wrong they were."

Kylo's eyes sharpen. "Those people didn't see inside my head. I've seen inside of his." And yes, maybe he's being ridiculous, only wanting to change tack now his mother's life is on the line, but also… it's his mother.

"He's a fanatic. I never wanted to murder whole planets. He… the way he used to talk about it…"

"I have to do this, Kylo," Leia insists. "If neither of us will make a move, we will never make any progress. I know the risks, I know the dangers, I know the realities. And I know this is something I need to do."

"But if Hux sets something up… if he manages to get hold of you…" Poe says, still with Kylo on this one. "You _are_ the Resistance."

Leia gives a wry smile. "I am its figurehead. As I was the Rebellion's. I have done this before, remember?"

"And you had to escape through a trash compactor. I think they'll have locked those down, by now." Kylo huffs a non-laugh out. "You mean more than the orders you give, to everyone here. Not just me, although I'll admit to a certain level of personal attachment being in my decision making process."

"I know that," Leia says. There's so much memory in her eyes now. "And I'm not trying to sell myself short. But my people risk their lives on a daily basis. You know that, Poe knows that. I have to be willing to do the same. And I am not being haphazard about this. I wouldn't go without taking you with me, because I know you will keep me safe."

"I… fine. It's not like I can ground you." Although, from the expression on Kylo's face, _he very much wishes he could_. She's not as young as she used to be, and there's no need for her to put herself in so much danger, there just isn't. 

He looks over to Poe, pleading with him to somehow make her change her mind, even though he knows neither of them can.

And Poe is already well-aware of the same. "Is there any way to persuade you otherwise?" he asks, nonetheless.

"No," Leia answers, gentle but firm. "There isn't. I'm going. We all are."

"Dad isn't going to like this." Kylo knows full well that he's being childish when he says that, but it slips out anyway. 

Leia smiles wryly, again. "I know. He'll try to talk me out of it as well. But my answer will be the same."

Kylo has a lot of things to say, and very few of them are nice. Even less could be voiced in front of Leia Organa, even if he wasn't her son. He knows she's been doing this for longer than he's been alive, but it's still… 

"I'll do my best to keep you safe. But… I'm not going to be happy about it."

"I know," his mother tells him. "But I need you with me on this. I know it isn't ideal. Please, Kylo. Please just help me make it happen."

"I will. I'm… I want the same thing as you, I just…" She's given enough. But then, who hasn't? "I won't let you down."

Leia steps in and takes her son's hands, holding on tight. "I'm certain of that," she answers.

So it's decided. But Poe knows that won't help with the one unshakeable fact he can't get away from:

He has a very bad feeling about this.


	26. Tipping Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooo... happy Saturday, everyone! Have another chapter. We'll just put it here. Aaaaaand... now we'll walk over there. No reason. No reason at all. Everything is fine.
> 
> LOOK AT HOW FINE EVERYTHING IS! ;-)

The _Commandant_ hurtles through hyperspace.

Aboard the shuttle – aside from the pilot, who seems a little on-edge – are General Hux, Lieutenant Mitaka, and three Knights of Ren. Specifically, Jolek, Fayed, and Meryth.

Hux can only imagine how Danika will react when she learns he's absconded with three of her Knights. He's just borrowing them, of course, but it's very much a case of borrowing _without_ asking.

Not that he should have to ask. He is Leader of the First Order, after all.

Maybe he should start referring to himself as such. Possibly with 'Supreme' as a precursor. Because he _is_. It is his _birthright_.

Hux is dragged from his thoughts as the door to the cockpit slides open. Ordinarily this would require no attention whatsoever, but given that _all_ of them are already _in_ the cockpit, it's rather more significant.

Because they are. Hux and Mitaka are seated on one side, with the three Knights on the other, and the pilot at the controls. And no one else should be on board.

"The view back there leaves a great deal to be desired," remarks HK-47, dryly, as he steps in, seeming completely unconcerned by the fact he has clearly stowed away aboard the ship. "I thought perhaps I would see if it was better up here."

Jolek rises, his sabre lit and pointed before he registers the droid as the one from Chikara. "You didn't tell me he was coming, too," he growls at Hux. The droid is a handful at the best of times.

"Not sure he knew," Meryth smirks. 

"I assumed this was _your_ fault," Hux snaps at the Knights. "The droid _is_ your responsibility, after all. That was the deal when I agreed to let your master allow it on the ship."

"Talking about me when I'm standing right here is hurtful, you know," HK-47 remarks, calmly.

"Do I look like a man who cares?" Hux now snaps at the droid.

"Not in the slightest," HK answers. "I like that in a meatbag. There is always room for a little casual cruelty."

"Would you like the droid to be--" Mitaka looks over at it, then evidently reconsiders what he was about to say. "…included on this mission?"

"If nothing else, it carries more weapons than you do," Fayed tells Mitaka, not hiding his own amusement at all. "Probably three times as deadly as both of you together." 

"How little you know," Hux remarks, almost offhand, before he looks up at the droid. From what he's heard about it thus far, the thing is a psychopath with more weapons than Starkiller Base. But… better to have something like that on your side than _not_.

"Fine," he says, after a moment. "But it is still your responsibility and there _will_ be consequences if it misbehaves."

"You hear? We'll have to spank you if you don't act like a good murder-bot and kill the other side," Meryth teases. "You're going to be a good little droid, aren't you? Bet you'll be glad of the fresh air and blood." 

"But of _course_ ," HK-47 replies, and if he's affronted by the remark, it doesn't show.

Hux can't help thinking this might be a bad sign, but quite frankly he doesn't care.

HK, meanwhile, calmly goes to sit down next to Meryth. "Conversational: I do like a meatbag with a penchant for idle threats. I like them more when they have what it takes to carry them out, of course. Perhaps we will get to kill something together."

"You can kill something, if you're fast enough," she tells him. "But you'll be used to that, won't you? Being around Force-users." She does not, of course, say 'Sith'.

Fayed narrows his eyes at her. "Exchange first, though. Killing once we've got what we're looking for. Which… we still don't know." 

"There will be no killing without my say-so," Hux cuts across, firmly. And really, what did he do to deserve these insolent children? The day when he can rid the galaxy of the last Force-user will be a welcome one indeed. "This is a meeting, not a bloodbath."

Not yet.

"So, who can we kill? I'm assuming the traitor will be there?" Jolek pushes. "We should know in advance if there's anyone off-limits." Which is just a way to get as many names out as possible. 

"According to our final communication with the proxy acting on behalf of the Resistance, there will only be four of them," Hux answers. "Leia Organa, Kylo _Organa-Solo_ , Poe Dameron, and Orinna Hux. _Anyone_ who touches her will have me to answer to. As for the others… if Organa or Dameron can be taken alive, they would be valuable sources of intel. But Kylo… Kylo you can kill. And you will have my genuine gratitude if you do. The sooner he is taken out of play, the better."

Meryth whistles through her teeth. "Damn. Two Organas, the pilot he ran away with, and… your sister? Daughter?"

"Mother," Hux replies, trying to keep his voice as level as he can. He doesn't want to talk about any of this with _them_ , but they're going to hear things when this meeting happens, so he might as well get this part over with. "My mother. She has been in exile for treason for more than two decades, and now the Resistance has had the audacity to go after her. For which they will pay."

"And here was me thinking you grew in a tank," Fayed laughs, tapping the helmet on his lap. Like the other two, he's less uptight about being seen without it by high command. 

"That why you didn't tell the boss?" Jolek asks. 

"Yes," Hux says, pointedly ignoring Fayed's remark. "I would have preferred to resolve this myself, but if your former master will be there, I need Force-users to deal with him."

"You all demonstrate such alarm and anger when you speak of this man," HK-47 cuts in, smoothly. "This Kylo Organa-Solo. He must have considerable power."

"He's a traitor," Meryth snaps. "He used to lead the Knights of Ren, but he ran back to the Resistance. Probably because he wasn't getting laid here, and he found someone who'd put up with his grandfather fetish." 

HK-47 looks sideways at her. "…You meatbags are unshakeably weird," the droid remarks. "Your lives would be much easier if you sloshed less and killed more."

"Hey, I'm not the one who jerked it to Darth Vader's mask," she says. 

Sexual obscenities aside, the remark clearly catches the droid's attention. "Inquisitive: I have heard many references to this particular Sith," he says. "Was he one of you? A former leader, perhaps?"

Hux has to resist the urge to put his head in his hands. Or go for a weapon. Or just get up and walk out, but only because it would be too telling.

"He was the Enforcer for the Emperor, Darth Sidious. Back when there was an Empire," Mitaka replies, very delicately. "The First Order is their spiritual successor, but… our Supreme Leader was not a Sith. So yes, in a way, and no, in another. And Kylo murdered the Supreme Leader." 

"How very… _Sithly_ ," HK remarks, his curiosity obviously piqued. "That is how it must be. The apprentice strikes down the master, if and when they are worthy. Otherwise… the master endures."

"Things have changed a little in the last however-many-millennia," Hux says, rather wanting an end to the conversation. And, the truth is, things _haven't_ changed. Not really. Not in that respect.

"Yeah. We don't work in twos," Fayed reminds the droid. "Snoke didn't believe in that." There's three of them in this one craft, after all. "And he ran off to the people who _took down_ the Empire." 

"He sounds formidable," HK-47 answers. "I will be glad of the opportunity to meet him, before we kill him. I do enjoy facing a worthy opponent."

"If you see an opening, take it," Hux says, firmly. "None of this hero-worship. Kylo Organa-Solo is a traitor."

The same as my mother.

"You're going to be racing us, though." Meryth's tone is **icy**. "That son-of-a-bitch deserves a painful, slow death." 

"Now that, we agree on," Hux says.

One thing is for sure: today might solve more than one problem at once.

***

The _Phoenix_ hangs in orbit of Onderon.

The waiting is the hardest part. The agreement is that the two ships – the one from the Resistance and the one from the First Order – will rendezvous in orbit and land together, at opposite corners of the ruins of Jyrenne Base, before the passengers walk to meet in the middle.

It reduces the risk that either side will go in early and fill the place with snipers and explosives. It doesn't _remove_ the risk, but it's a start.

Poe does not enjoy the waiting. Not in the slightest. And, with every passing moment, he's more and more on edge.

Kylo stands behind his pilot, a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "It's going to be okay, you know." He doesn't believe it fully, but the more he says it, the more he hopes it might be true. 

"I hope so," Poe answers. Neither of them is happy about the plan. Both of them are going along with it, but neither of them is any more in favour of it than they were when Leia first insisted on it. "The stakes are so high. Maybe too high."

"They always are," Kylo points out. "And Hux is nothing like as dangerous as Snoke. Remember that. Remember _we_ defeated Snoke. You, as much as anyone else." 

Poe lifts his hand to rest it over Kylo's. "You did that," he insists. "I just helped you see that you could." His other hand goes to the sabre-blaster at his hip, the memories flaring again.

"You broke me out of his control. Don't belittle that. I wouldn't have ever been able to do that without you." Kylo kisses at the dark curls below him, and then wraps both arms around Poe from behind, cuddling him back with the chair between them. 

The moment of contact is strangely welcome, despite it all, and Poe leans into it, closing his eyes. "I love you, you know," he says, softly. "I know things haven't been great recently, but… we can do this. We have to believe we can do this."

"There's always going to be better days, and worse days. But I'm here for both of them, you do realise? That's what a commitment is. Not just… not just when the weather is good." 

"I know," Poe tells him, and he does. "And when all this is over… I'll make it up to you. Significantly. For some time. For now… we have to focus on what comes next. On…"

The proximity alarm sounds, suddenly, and Poe sits forward, looking at the scope. "I'm picking up another ship, dropping out of hyperspace. It's Upsilon-class. They're here, Kylo. _He's_ here."

Kylo actually _growls_ , just a little. Just once. His arms tighten, then he lets go. "I suppose this is it, then. I'll go check if our guests are ready?"

"Yes," Poe agrees. "I'll start bringing us in to land. Hopefully the person flying that thing can keep up with me…"

He sends across the acknowledgement signal they've agreed on, and the two Upsilon-class shuttles move in closer, starting to descend towards the surface of Onderon. The planet below is deep green, wrapped in forests, and circled by four moons. At least this one will be less swamp-like than Dathomir, though Poe knows it has more than its share of large, fanged fauna.

Though that won't be the danger. The danger is in the other shuttle, descending alongside.

"Is everyone clear on the code words?" Kylo asks. "Anyone need them going through again?" He might have gotten a little excessive with his contingency planning, but really, the only time a contingency plan is excessive is if it somehow doesn't work. 

"We know what we're doing, Kylo," Leia tells him, gently, as she and Orinna step through into the cockpit. "We've planned this carefully. We're as ready as we can be."

Orinna, meanwhile, steps closer to the front console, looking out of the window, her eyes lingering on the other ship, visible off to the side. "I never thought this would happen," she says, her tone soft and laden with memory. "I never thought I'd see him again. And now…"

"You can do this," Leia reminds her. "You're at least as strong as him. And you're not facing this alone."

"We're here," Kylo adds. "We'll do everything we can to keep you safe." 

His hand goes to his belt, where two sabre-hilts hang. He pats it, and nods at her. "Not all Force-users are bad news." 

"So I'm learning," Orinna answers, with a little smile. "And thank you. Thank you for pulling me back into this. I had been hiding for too long."

"Understandably so. I think I'd have wanted to hide, if I were you," he says. "And… if we can help your son, we will. If he's… if he wants to be helped."

Orinna looks down. "He may not. But soon, we will know for sure."

"Prepare for landing," Poe interjects, softly, as the view out the window resolves from cloud into trees – much closer up – and, beneath them, the remains of what was once a sizeable complex.

The _Phoenix_ touches down on one edge of the ruins of Jyrenne Base, and the second ship – whose idents list it as the _Commandant_ – moves to do the same on the far edge. This does at least keep them far enough apart to allow a certain amount of breathing room.

For now.

Once they're down, Poe runs through the post-flight checks as quick as he can, then rises from his seat. "Well," he says. "Time to do this."

Kylo keeps his sabre in his hand, unlit, but ready. He walks out of the ship first, ready to deflect any blows and to hurl Lightning down if needs be. In the distance he sees (and feels) the three Knights and the two officers.

"They didn't bring…" then his eyes narrow. "…any more people. But someone else came." 

The ruins around them are quiet, and still, and Poe can't help feeling deeply unsettled by them. By the history lingering in all this cracked duracrete, still marked here and there by the emblem of the Empire.

Kylo's words pull him back to the moment, and he looks sideways at his husband. "They did?" he says. "I don't… oh. _Oh_. A droid?"

"The HK unit," Kylo says. "Or so I assume. It's a little far to make out details, but it's bipedal, and I can't feel it in the Force, and the Order has never gone in for inorganic life as anything other than base slaves." 

"We have to find a way to speak to him," Poe replies. "It won't be easy, with everything else that's going on, but… this is our chance. If he's Revan's droid, we have to find a way to get him to come back with us."

"I'm sure he'll be paying close attention. We just have to tell him she wants him to help us and he'll come." And no one but the Knights of Eigengrau know what really happened to HK's former master. No one but them will be able to give him the closure he's obviously craved for millennia. 

Just behind Poe and Kylo, Orinna's step falters a little. They're getting closer now – close enough that they can see the people they're walking towards, down the cracked central concourse of the old base. "That's him," she whispers. "He… he looks so like his father…"

Leia puts a hand on Orinna's arm. "You can do this," she reminds her. "You're strong. And you never did anything except try to help him. You were never in the wrong."

"I… I know," Orinna replies, obviously trying to remind herself of the same. "I can do this. I can."

Both sides move closer and closer, until they're standing in the open square in the very centre of the concourse. On one side: Kylo and Poe, with Leia and Orinna. And, on the other, General Alek Hux, with one of his Lieutenants close by, and three Knights of Ren at his back.

And… the droid. Poe's eyes linger on it for a moment, before he has to return his focus to the immediate situation. To this meeting, which is – whichever way you look at it – historic. And game-changing. And _dangerous_.

"Well, well," Hux starts out. "You actually came. I wasn't sure if you would dare."

"It is not in my nature to be afraid," Leia replies, her tone so calm and level. "We asked for this meeting. Of course we came."

"You brought Revan's droid with you," Kylo says. "HK-47. We were hoping to speak to you at some point." Even if this detracts from the negotiation they came here to start, he needs the droid to know he's recognised from the start.

The Knights glance between one another, not sure how Kylo knows the droid's designation.

"…You know of me?" HK-47 says, and it's clear he's genuinely surprised.

"Yes," Poe says. "Darth Revan appeared to us, and told us to find you."

If HK-47 was organic, it's safe to say he wouldn't be breathing right now. "How is that possible?" he asks.

" _Enough_ ," Hux hisses. He doesn't have time for more prattle from the metal psychopath, especially if it's about some dead Force-user. His mother is standing mere metres in front of him, and the whole world has stopped, and just keeping his expression level is a constant struggle.

He takes a step forward, and now he's only addressing one person. "I thought I would never see you again."

"The feeling was mutual," Orinna replies, and she steps around Kylo and Poe, facing her son down. "You got so tall."

"I take after my father," Hux says, wishing he didn't have to do this in front of anyone else. Especially all of _these_ people.

"True enough," his mother tells him. "I'm glad you agreed to meet with me. With us. It has been too long."

"I'm not so sure of that," is her son's answer, and he doesn't try to keep the coldness from his tone as he speaks. "This is only happening because _they_ went after you. The Resistance cannot be trusted, mother."

"I'm sorry, which of us built a planet-obliterating superweapon?" Poe cuts across, sharply.

" _Quiet_ ," Hux throws back. "It is hardly my fault if you have no understanding of power. And I didn't come here to explain it to you."

"Power isn't about who can kill the most people, Hux," Kylo tells him. "It's about the decisions you can make, and about mercy, too." 

It's about who you _don't_ kill. 

"Spoken like a true coward and traitor," Meryth spits at him.

"Meryth – Fayed, Jolek – it isn't too late to come with me. Join my Order. There is no need to continue this conflict. The Leader is dead, and his ways will die with him. My Knights offer a future. A future for _both_ sides of the Force."

" _Silence_ ," Hux hisses, even more sharply. "We didn't come here for you to play out your Force-fuelled power trips. You can do that on your own time."

"You don't have to be so angry, Alek," Orinna says, before anyone else can speak. "I came here because I believe there is still good in you. You've spent so long trying to live up to your father's legacy, your _grandfather's_ legacy. But you don't have to be this person."

"I don't _have_ to be this person, I _want_ to be this person, and…" Hux's voice wavers suddenly. "Did you tell them? Did you tell them who I am? Who _you_ are?"

The air goes very quiet.

"Yes," Orinna answers. "I told them. I told them I am the daughter of Emperor Palpatine, and that you are therefore his grandson."

"It wasn't your secret to tell."

Orinna meets his eyes. "Of course it was. It affects me just as much as it affects you. And, having spent some time with the daughter and grandson of Darth Vader, I believe more than ever that you can come back from this. That you can make this right."

"None of this is _wrong_ ," Hux retorts, allowing the slightest tremor to slip into his voice. "I am the Heir to the Empire. I am the Supreme Leader of the First Order. I have achieved the fullest potential of my birthright, and I have done it without the Force."

"And now you can stop," Kylo says. "You can do the thing that's even harder than that. You can… make your own path, your own choices. You can… help spread peace." 

Peace is a lie. It is, Kylo knows. But it is also a truth. There is no such thing as no conflict, but there is such a thing as co-operation, as compromise, as opposing without destroying. The vibrancy of difference is beautiful, and _peace_ doesn't have to mean _everything in harmony_. "We can strike an accord. We can all walk away from this. If we continue to fight forever, we will all die in the attempt." 

" _You_ will die in the attempt," Hux replies, shortly. "You will die, because you have picked the losing side. Why would I surrender, when I have the upper hand?"

"No one is asking you to surrender," Orinna insists. Her voice is shaking and it's clear all of this is taking a toll on her, but she doesn't give in. "Strength isn't just about killing people, Alek. It's about doing what's best for them."

"Your mother is right," Leia adds. "It isn't too late to find a peaceful resolution to all this."

"I didn't come here to be lectured by an enemy of the state," Hux throws across. "Especially not _three_ of them," he adds, with a cold look at Kylo and Poe.

It makes Poe's blood boil. Just staying quiet and keeping still is taking all of his resolve right now.

"You watch your tone," Orinna cuts in, and her own is sharper now. "Most people wouldn't make you an offer like this, but Leia Organa is better than that."

"Why do you even care?" Hux demands, bitterly. "You left. You ran away. You've been gone for more than two decades. Why would you suddenly have the _slightest_ interest in me?"

"I care because I'm your _mother_ ," Orinna replies, her voice shaking. "Because I love you. Because I have _always_ loved you. And I waited too long to come back and tell you that, but I'm here now. I'm here, and I want you to know that it isn't too late."

"Of course it is," her son says, and fuck but did his voice just crack? "I am my father's son. My grandfather's grandson. There was only ever one path I could walk."

Orinna takes another step closer. "You are also _my_ son. And there is a second path. One you can still take."

The Knights beside Hux all reach for their sabres, ready to fight. Mitaka is the only one of Hux's entourage who doesn't go for a weapon, right now. 

"You won, Hux. You did what your father couldn't. But why don't you try to be even _better_ than him? Why not find a way to keep your Order, and do great things… but not war?" Kylo doesn't know how else to help the man, but…

"I saw there was another way. It was hard, but I don't regret it. Not one bit. I made my own choices. I saw… I saw I could go beyond what everyone thought was the only two paths. This isn't surrender. It's both sides winning."

"He's right, Alek," Orinna says. "Kylo was as deep in the Dark as you. Maybe even deeper. But he came back from it, and you can too. You can. You're the strongest man I've ever known. Even when you were eleven, I could see it. I knew it. And… I was proud of you for it. I should have told you that. I should have told you how amazing you were."

"I…" Hux starts out, tone anything but level. "I didn't know what to do after you left. I became what father wanted. I… never even considered…"

"Consider it now," his mother implores. "You once told me you didn't have to be a good person to be a great one. But you can be _both_."

"It's impossible," Hux insists.

Orinna shakes her head. "Not for you. Please, Alek. Please let us show you…"

"I don't…" Hux breathes. "I can't… I…"

His mother takes another couple of steps forward. "Come here," she says, softly.

Hux hesitates for a moment, and then he steps in too, wrapping both arms around his mother and burying his face in her neck, and the collective shock at this is palpable and undeniable.

"My boy," Orinna whispers, her voice breaking with happiness. "My Alek…"

There's a moment – a long moment – where neither of them move, and then Hux's right hand drops to his side, and it isn't immediately clear why. And then Orinna _jolts_ sharply in her son's grasp, letting out a sudden, soft whimper of shock.

"You are a traitor," Hux hisses, his voice back to normal, without a trace of emotion in it. "And you should not have fallen for this twice."

He yanks back the short vibroblade he's just driven into his mother's chest and steps away, letting Orinna stagger and fall.

"You _bastard_!" Kylo screams, feeling the flicker in the Force as he senses the pain and smells the blood in the air. "You heartless, vicious, monster!" How could he? How could he do that? How?

Red plasma flickers in a true, strong blade from his right hand, and he lifts Darth Vader's blade to strike down Palpatine's grandson. 

But if Kylo's anger is intense, it is nothing compared to the _rage_ that blazes through Poe, as he processes what Hux has just done. That the man has just murdered _his own mother_ in cold blood, in front of more than half a dozen people, and – from the look in the General's eyes – without the slightest sense of remorse.

And something right at Poe's core – something that has been winding tighter and hotter and _darker_ for days and days – just **snaps**. Every sense of restraint or forethought or _Light_ vanishes in an instant, and Poe acts without thinking, without needing to think. Without wanting to think.

He darts sideways and snatches the second lightsabre – one of the two that once belonged to Snoke – from Kylo's belt, spinning the hilt as the blade arcs into life, burning through the air.

" _ **No more**_ ," the pilot growls, and launches himself at Hux without hesitation, wanting nothing more than to strike the man down.

 _With all of his hatred_.

Kylo's already trying to go for Hux when he feels Poe's snap, and he has to recalculate _fast_. From one target to take down as a priority, to a sudden explosion of possibilities. It's like everything that could happen all does happen in potentia at once, and the galaxy hasn't decided which way the dice will fall.

And then they do.

Fayed steps in front of Hux, his red blade up and roaring. The Knight locks blades with Poe, and Kylo tries to pull Poe back, to step in front of him, the two actions crossing wires in his brain.

The other Knights are moving, too: forming a barrier around Hux and shoving at Kylo with the Force itself. He digs his heels in and screams, pushing back just as hard and nearly skidding through the dust as he tries to keep still. "LEAVE MY PILOT ALONE." 

Poe isn't thinking of _anything_ but killing Hux, of running him through with the sabre and letting him die at his murdered mother's side. So when Fayed blocks him, he all but screams in renewed rage, trying to force the rather-taller Darksider back so he can get to his real target. His mind isn't even processing Kylo's shouts, nor the torrent of emotions pouring back and forth across their bond. Nothing but the moment.

At the same time, Hux just about manages to move out of range, letting the Knights shield him – at least they're doing _that_ properly – before he turns to Mitaka. "Blaster," he hisses. " _Now_."

In the midst of it all, HK-47 actually hesitates. The pause is extremely brief, but significant, and when it ends, he moves fast, stepping up to Meryth, pressing his blaster to the side of her helmet, and shooting her squarely in the head.

" _Yes_ ," Poe shouts, when he realises that the droid has just turned on its own side. "Kill them. Kill them all. _Kylo is Revan's heir_. **Kill them all**."

Fayed sweeps a blow that might well have decapitated the pilot, if not for the sudden charge of said Sith, who throws him onto his back on the floor, skewering him to the ground with his own sabre.

Kylo doesn't even really compute that two of the Knights are now dead; he's turning and running towards where Jolek's smacking his blade to Poe's trying to disarm him with all the force of his bulky frame. 

Poe is giving the fight everything he's got, but Jolek is bigger and taller than him, and has the Force, and he knows he's not going to be able to keep doing this much longer and _Jolek is a distraction, he has to kill **Hux**_. Feinting left, he manages to get one really good kick in – right against Jolek's midsection – which should buy him a few seconds to…

He turns, in time to see Hux snatching a blaster from Mitaka's grip: a blaster he immediately points at Leia.

The world stops.

"The First Order sends its regards," the General hisses.

And he shoots Leia in the stomach.

The pain crashes through the air louder than the sound of fire, or the soft grunt as the General of the Resistance – Alderaan's Princess – daughter of Organa and Skywalker both – crumples.

Kylo doesn't even move. He's frozen for a long moment, torn between competing priorities. Poe, who is in danger of being hurt. His mother, who _is_ hurt. Who is hurt badly. Who is--

"Mom!" 

Kylo doesn't want to turn from Poe, but the split-second analysis says that Poe is more useful alive than dead, and Leia is **very likely about to die without help** , and Kylo runs over to her, dropping down to her side and rushing through painkilling calm into her with all the sense he has. 

Jolek snaps Poe's wrist to almost breaking, forcing the sabre-hilt out of his grip, and cold-cocks him over the temple. And then grabs around his waist and bear-crushes his arms to his body and lifts him bodily up.

Mitaka merely takes the weapon back. "We should go, Sir." 

Hux does not want to leave. Hux wants to finish the job. He draws his vibroblade once more and is about to go for Kylo when that _accursed_ droid turns towards them again, and makes the decision for him.

"Yes," he says, as if it was what he wanted all along. "We should. We got what we came for."

His eyes dart sideways to the unconscious pilot in Jolek's grip, and a nasty smile crosses his face. " _More_ than what we came for."

And, before the damned droid can prevent it, Hux, Mitaka and Jolek race off back towards the _Commandant_ , taking Poe with them.

In their wake… there is devastation. Orinna Hux lies dead, where she fell, and nearby the bodies of Meryth and Fayed are sprawled on the duracrete. And, beyond them, Leia Organa is on the ground too, coated in blood, holding onto her son's arm and shaking in pain.

"Kylo," she gasps. "Kylo, I…"

"It's okay, it's okay," he tells her, holding her, curling her against his chest. He's in shock, but he knows he has to act. Knows he has to act fast to save her, though his mind is locked in a cycle of minutes barely past, trying to make sense of it, trying to see how he could do things differently.

He sees the droid looking down at them. "Tell me you have a medpack on you, HK."

HK-47 is clearly still calculating his options. He's turned on his former masters quite spectacularly, but it's obvious that he still has questions. "Guarded statement: I do not. I have not needed to provide support to organics in several millennia. If you wish this one to survive, it would be wise to return to your ship."

"He's right, Kylo," Leia gasps. "Cover… have to get to cover… have…"

In the distance, the sharp roar of engines announces the launch of the _Commandant_.

Kylo hefts his mother up as quickly as he can, holding her to his chest. "Hold on," he says, and then looks over to the not-quite-protocol droid.

"Come with me. And I hope in the name of the Force that Revan had the foresight to teach you to fly." 

"Proud assertion: She did," HK answers. "I am adept at piloting craft of all kinds. But let us save our discussion for when we are in hyperspace. We…"

He's interrupted as the _Commandant_ swoops overhead, opening fire with its twin cannons. Laser fire impacts the ground close by as the ship makes a single pass, and HK-47 points his blaster rifle up at it, shooting back. It seems to be enough to deter anything further, and the ship hurtles up into the atmosphere after a few more seconds, without firing again.

"Cowardly meatbags!" HK shouts after the retreating shuttle. "Why don't you stand and fight?!"

"Because they know we might win." Even the two of them. A Sith and a droid, versus a Knight and two officers. Kylo still fancies their odds. After all, there's two dead to their one loss, and that one was a cowardly, back-stabbing low.

He covers the ground to the Upsilon quickly, taking Leia right to the small medical room. "Ignition sequence isn't locked down. Take us up and plot a return course to… _fuck_. Hail them. Tell them to scramble. Now they've got Poe… the base isn't secure…" 

HK-47 stares at him for a moment, and then opts merely to give a metallic nod. "As you wish. I will return us to this vessel's previous destination. The hyperspace co-ordinates will still be in the navicomputer."

And the droid disappears off to the cockpit.

"Kylo," Leia gasps. "If I don't make it, I need you… need you to promise me something…"

"Don't you _dare_ ," he snaps at her. "Don't even. You're making it. You're not dying on me. Mom… **no**."

"I'm not so sure of that," she replies, voice cracking. "This… this feels bad… Kylo…"

"You told me yourself. You got away from Darth Vader. You're not going to let this get you." He has to believe it. Has to. Or else… no. He can't even let himself think it. 

Around them, the ship shakes as HK-47 starts the pre-flight sequence, and within seconds they're lifting off. "Hold tight, meatbags!" he calls, from the cockpit.

"Interesting friend you found there…" Leia manages, and then she grasps Kylo's arm again. "You have to… to stop the bleeding. I won't make it home otherwise…"

"He's Revan's," Kylo says, and reluctantly peels away to grab the Bacta and bandages, coming right back and ripping her clothes aside to slap the emergency dose on. He doesn't even think to warn her to brace, his mind on autopilot. "Assassin droid. Lucky he can fly." 

Leia cries out in shock and pain, her whole body shaking before she goes very still. "Lucky, yes," she gasps. "Otherwise… would have to be you… or me…"

The ship jolts again, and they're obviously racing skyward now, bouncing more than a little as they start to break atmosphere.

"You'd be dead already, if I was flying," he jokes, and then grabs a hypo for the pain, dosing her quickly, then grabbing her hands. "Stay with me, Mom. I can't lose you, too."

Like. Like… Poe. Who isn't _dead_ (he'd feel it if he were), but he is… he's… he's gone.

Gone.

Kylo's mind bluescreens. 

"I'm here," Leia whispers. The painkillers have obviously helped, and the Bacta is slowing the bleeding, but she's still in very serious condition. "I'm here, Kylo. And…"

Her hands tighten on his, obviously understanding. "We'll get him back. We got _you_ back."

"It's my fault," Kylo says, his voice devoid of emotion. Too, too far gone. Too numb. "I shouldn't have let him go. He's… it's my fault. I did this." 

"No," Leia insists, desperately trying to console him despite everything. "It is no one's fault. It… just happened… in the moment… we lost control of the situation."

Though this is, perhaps, something of an understatement.

One final jolt, and the _Phoenix_ hurtles into hyperspace, leaving Onderon far behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFFHANGERTASTIC!
> 
> #SorryNotSorry
> 
> Catch you all next week!


	27. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! Recovered from last week yet? Thought not! To make things - ahaha - better, have another chapter, in which both sides deal with the fallout from the incident on Onderon.
> 
> Or: in which Hux is happy, and everyone else is decidedly not.

Once the _Phoenix_ is in hyperspace, it's a few moments before HK-47 reappears from the cockpit.

"We are en route to your previous destination," he reports. "A planet listed as 'Tahanan'. I assume that is correct?"

"Yes, thank you HK, that's correct. Did you tell them we've been compromised, too?" Kylo asks, wiping a bloodied hand through his hair. "And I apologise for the… lack of a proper introduction." 

"I sent a message ahead, stating that you believed the base was compromised and had taken losses. I said no more than that, as I do not yet know quite what I am dealing with."

HK-47 paces closer. "Interrogative: You have some explaining to do. From what my temporary former masters said, you are the grandson of a great Sith Lord, and you struck down your own master not long ago. And, during the battle, the one who was captured clearly stated that you are 'Revan's heir'. This is quite a claim to be making."

Kylo nods. "I am. I am Darth Kylo Organa-Solo. I am the Master of the Knights of Eigengrau. I came across your former Master's training grounds, and I passed her tests."

As proof, he lifts his right hand and lets a tiny ball of lightning dance around before a closed fist extinguishes it. He's too distraught for anything more. "Darth Revan herself told me you were with our enemies." 

The droid appears to consider this for a moment, and then gives what can only be described as a stiff, mechanical bow. "Then I am at your disposal, master. I have walked among those who oppose you. I am ready to assist you in ending them."

"First we have to get my mother some medical attention. But then – yes. I'm going to kill every last one of them until they give me my husband back." There's open anger in his voice, and no surprise. Kylo is beyond livid. Hux… that asshole piece of ginger shit… 

Killing his own mother, shooting Kylo's, stealing Poe? No. That's beyond forgiving. "This… is General Leia Organa. And the one they took is my husband, Poe Dameron. Also a Sith, albeit one without the Force."

"Without the Force?" HK-47 repeats. "Shocked remark: This is irregular. Things have changed quite significantly since the days of my creation. I do not care for it. But… I will get you back to this base of yours. And then we will see about making your enemies pay for their actions. Violently. Bloodily…"

"Poe went through Revan's trials by my side. He earned the title. You'll know what that means, how hard she'd push her protégés," Kylo points out.

"How… how do we know we can trust you?" Leia gasps, looking over at the droid in obvious alarm.

"If I wanted you dead, meatbag, you would already be dead," HK answers, without hesitation. "But I believe Darth Kylo speaks the truth. He knows of Eigengrau. He knows of me. And if he is my maker's heir, he has my allegiance."

"Revan told us about him," Kylo tells his mother. "She would have gone to him through the Force, if she could have reached him. You… found it, didn't you? The Eye."

"Of course I did," HK-47 answers, sounding half-matter-of-fact and half-proud. "I searched for it in Revan's stead, after her death. I tore through the galaxy, taking down her enemies wherever I could, but fixed on my ultimate goal. And then, finally: Midwanjontû. I located it. I went there. And… I stood before it, before the Eye of Chikara, triumphant where so very many had failed."

Where even Revan had failed. Though, if HK is thinking this, he does not say it.

"But… what more could I do then?" the droid goes on. "My master was dead. Her empire had fallen. Her legacy was lost and forgotten, thanks to the closed-minded _arrogance_ of the meatbags on the Jedi Council. None alive was worthy of her legacy. So… I waited. I put myself into low-power mode, in the corner of the chamber on Midwanjontû, in the light of the Eye, and I waited."

"…until someone took it," Kylo continues, sadly. "Which--"

Before he can say another word, Leia cries out in pain, her whole body convulsing and her eyes rolling back, and something starts beeping frantically on the medical console.

"Your General is in shock," HK-47 says. "We must act fast, or she will expire."

"I--" Kylo flinches, and then grabs for the hypo again, shaking hands dialling up a dose and applying it quickly. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She's fading. He investigates the injury site, sees the blood seeping through the dressing, and grabs a second one to slap and hold over the site.

"I can't lose her. I won't. HK… for the love of the Force, _help me_."

"Wry statement: Be thankful my maker preferred to keep some of her targets alive, or you would be doing this on your own," HK-47 remarks, and steps in to help.

It's going to be a long trip back to Tahanan.

***

Somehow, Sith and droid manage to keep Leia more or less stable. There are a few worrying moments here and there, but she's still alive – if no longer wholly lucid – when the proximity alerts go off, and HK-47 headtilts towards the cockpit.

"I must land the ship. Your assistance may be required. No doubt your base will refuse landing clearance if they hear me on the comm, and we cannot afford to spend time arguing with them."

Kylo doesn't want to leave Leia for even a moment, but he knows he has to. A nod, and he squeezes her hand. "We'll get you to a medic," he tells her, then follows the droid into the shuttle's cockpit.

"Patch me through."

HK-47 takes the pilot's seat, working the controls and bringing the ship out of hyperspace. There's a blur of vivid blue and they drop quickly to sublight, Tahanan hanging directly ahead of them, day-side shimmering green in the glow of its sun. A few quick switches, and the radio crackles, and…

"Approaching ship, this is Tahanan Ground Control. Identify."

"This is Organa-Solo. Requesting clearance to land. One injured female. Please have medical on hand." 

"Copy that," comes the reply. "Lighting the pad up for you now. Who is the injured party? Is it Orinna Hux?"

"Negative. General Organa. There's… it's just me and a droid unit." Kylo has to tell them, but… "Commander Dameron is captured. Orinna Hux is dead. I'm going to need you to invoke the contingencies and start the move to the beta site."

There are several shouts of alarm in the background, and it's obvious people in the bunker have been listening in. The unlucky radio operator manages to keep his voice level as he replies, but there's no denying how shaken he is.

"Understood, _Phoenix_. I will notify the Command Team immediately. A medical unit will be waiting by the landing pad for your arrival."

"Thank you." Kylo doesn't even know how he manages to keep his voice as level as he does, but it's probably the shock. 

He looks over at the droid in the pilot's seat, then claps a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you. By the way. For… everything. I promise I'll explain the situation better when… when it's not all going to hell." 

"I will hold you to that," HK-47 replies. "I have _many_ questions."

The _Phoenix_ swoops down over Tahanan, heading towards the Resistance Base – HK-47 obviously following the signal from the landing pad. The descent is quick and sharp, as if the droid is rushing, and within a couple of moments the sea of green has resolved into individual trees, and soon they're clunking smoothly into place on the pad.

Kylo runs to the back, lifting his mother and taking her down the boarding ramp to the nearest gurney. He's barely laid her on it when his father and Wookiee uncle come roaring.

"The hell happened? Kylo? Where's Poe? Where's Orinna?"

"Dad… Hux killed Orinna, and took Poe. I… I couldn't…" 

Other people come running in Han and Chewie's wake: Kes Dameron, with several of the pilots, and it's clear from the looks on their faces that they were either in the bunker during that last comm call, or they've just spoken to someone who was.

And Kes just _stops_ , when he sees it's all true, when he sees Leia Organa bleeding out and no sign of his son.

"Kylo," Kes gasps. "Kylo, what happened?"

"We have to get the General to the med-bay _stat_ ," one of the medics cuts across, before anyone else can speak. "Everybody, out of the way!"

And the team immediately starts racing off, bringing the gurney between them.

Kylo watches them go, torn. He wants to follow, but he also knows he can't do much to help. He'll be in the way. There's no more to do, now, but wait for the experts. 

"Hux… he killed Orinna in front of us. Poe went for him, took the…" Kylo's hand waves at the empty space on his belt where the second sabre-hilt once sat. "It turned into a blood-bath."

"Where did they take him… and who the hell is this?" Han asks, knocking his knuckles against HK's chest-plate. 

The droid looks at Han. "Explanatory: I am HK-47. I am sworn to follow Darth Kylo. Please refrain from touching me again, if you wish to keep all your fingers. Or your arms."

"That's my father, HK," Kylo tells the droid. "Han Solo."

"The hell tin can did you even pick up? And where _is_ Poe?"

"I told you: Hux took him. I need to go get him. **Now**. I need all the intelligence we have, cross-referenced with HK's knowledge, so we can track them down and I can _save him_."

"We have to do this right," Kes manages, although it's clear he's barely holding himself together. "You can't just go running off half-cocked. We have to do this properly. Use all the resources of the Resistance. We…"

He looks at Han imploringly. "We _are_ going to do this, aren't we? I… I know last time they had to leave him, but… "

"Damn right we're doing it," Snap Wexley interjects, at the head of the little gaggle of pilots who came over with Kes. "I'll fly you there myself, Kylo, if that's what it takes. You know I will."

"I'd fucking fly myself if I had to," Kylo tells them. "Probably explode on the runway, but I'd try. I don't care… we're getting my husband back. Now."

Han grabs Kes' shoulder, and then Chewie grabs the other. One is stronger than the other. "We're getting him back. No one messes with our family, remember?"

Chewie roars, and then goes over to Kylo. Two very, very big and fluffy arms wrap around him, and the Sith allows himself to be comforted. He leans into Chewie's chest, and nods. "I know. I… I had to leave, to make sure she got… she didn't…"

Chewie points out to Kylo that the medics are reasonably good here (he should know). 

"We need to regroup," Snap says, obviously trying to pull off the sensible 2IC role when what he actually wants to do is get everyone into ships and start shooting things. "We gotta go talk to the Admirals, work out what to do next. And we have to focus on moving to the beta site before we have Star Destroyers dropping on us, and…"

Which is when he obviously processes _how_ the First Order would be able to work out where they are, and his mind visibly hits a wall.

"Get Statura and Ematt onboard," Kylo says, from inside the Wookiee-hug. "They can sort out the technicalities. Get everyone to pack up everything essential."

Han nods. "Kylo, you go get your stuff. Chewie – you help anyone who needs heavy things moving. I'll get the ball rolling." 

It's surprising how quickly he can slip right back into command-voice. Kylo remembers it. 

Everyone disperses, rapidly. 

***

When the _Commandant_ returns to the _Finalizer_ , General Hux wastes no time in sending Poe Dameron to the ship's detention centre, to be processed. He also wastes no time in insisting the man be kept under rotating four-trooper guard at all times, and that no Force-users be allowed near him without prior authorisation.

Losing the man once was an embarrassment. Losing him twice would be unthinkable. Especially when Hux is so very much looking forward to having a long chat with him.

He wonders if Kylo will be able to hear the screams, across the vastness of space. He hopes so.

Before all that, however, he knows he's going to have a more immediate issue to deal with. The minute they get back to the ship, Jolek disappears, and it's a safe bet he's gone straight to tell Danika and Daria that two of their compatriots are dead.

And the droid has defected. Though Hux suspects that will be far less of an issue.

A confrontation is inevitable. If he plays it wrong, he could lose control of this entire situation for good. But, if he plays it _right_ , he might win himself yet another advantage.

And this day is going so well. Why not continue the trend?

General Hux returns to the bridge. Ostensibly, this is to receive reports on the running of the ship in his absence. But deep down… he wants to dictate every step of this. Wants people to see Danika out of control. Wants them to see _him_ maintaining it.

He stands at the head of the bridge, eyes on the blackness beyond, running through hypotheticals in his mind. Ready for every possibility.

Danika – on cue – storms onto the bridge with every inch of her radiating her utter _outrage_. How dare he? How very fucking dare he? Take three of her Knights without asking her permission? Get two of them **killed**?

The Knight strides onto the bridge – even less in control than even Kylo Ren would be at his worst, in front of so many – and _shouts_. 

"HOW DARE YOU TAKE MY KNIGHTS?"

 _Perfect_. Hux takes a deep breath – a raging Force-user is still incredibly dangerous, after all – and focuses on the moment, knowing he needs to act before she does something unhelpful, like try to kill him. Or _actually_ kill him.

"I am Supreme Leader of the First Order," he says, and why not? He _is_. "I was going into a high-risk situation and I wanted the very best as my backup. It is hardly my fault if they got themselves killed."

"You did this! You did this on purpose! You wanted them dead so you didn't care! What the fuck is your problem? We could destroy you! You're only here because of us!" 

If her voice is shrill, it's because she's two heartbeats away from Force-choking him in front of everyone. "I will _end you_."

"No, Lady Ren, you will not end me," Hux replies, smooth and firm. "You need me. You need me, and that is why you allied with me. Now, take a breath, and we will discuss this in private."

He gives a rather pointed glance at the underlings at the workstations beneath them, all of whom are clearly trying to watch without looking like they are.

"You arrogant piece of shit, you think your soldiers matter? I could kill all of them! Without lifting my hand!" She reaches a hand to one side, and an officer lifts from the ground. 

The man in question splutters, clutching at his throat; kicking madly and trying to breathe. 

"You think yours do," Hux counters, and – going for broke – puts a hand on Danika's arm. "Now stop this. Or did you come here to make a scene?"

The General is not a gambling man, but right now all of his cards are on the metaphorical table, and he's got to hope that the blaster _under_ it will not be necessary. Not when he still very much needs the remaining Knights of Ren alive and cooperative.

Danika snaps the man's neck, just to prove her point, and drops him to the floor. "You will explain _everything_." 

Hux does not blink. "Yes. I will explain everything. And then I will explain how we now have the upper hand."

Thanks to me. Though he is smart enough not to say this part out loud.

He gestures to the side-door, which leads into his bridge office. "Shall we?"

She pauses a moment longer – to prove this is on her terms – before she storms into the other room. Inside, she turns on her heels and puts her hands on her hips.

"Two of my Knights, General. You are aware there's now only three of us? That you nearly halved our numbers in one, fell swoop?"

Hux paces calmly after Danika, moving around her and towards his desk, making it clear whose turf they are (still) on.

"Their deaths were not deliberate, Lady Ren," he replies. "The situation spiralled out of control – and you will be stunned when I tell you why – and, in the chaos, your former master killed them both. It was never my intention to lose either of them. On the contrary, I believed I was taking the best people for the job."

"You didn't even ask my permission!" Danika doesn't like his implication that they weren't the best, because they are, but…

"Kylo was there?" The traitor? Her nemesis? And Hux didn't think to take her? She walks up to his desk, grabbing it with both hands. "Tell me he's dead."

"Yes, he was there," Hux answers, not bothering to hide his distaste. Hatred of Kylo Organa-Solo is one of the few things he and Danika can easily agree on. "He survived. But his sainted mother was bleeding out in his arms when I left – thanks to me – and his husband is currently sitting in one of our holding cells awaiting a _very_ thorough interrogation. Believe me, Kylo will see this as _anything_ but a victory."

"I'm going to rip each of his toenails out and have them couriered to the traitor, one at a time," Danika snarls, the anger making the modulator almost animal around her voice. 

"You have the pilot? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I am telling you now." How Hux is keeping his voice so level, even he doesn't know. It's as though the events of the day are lifting him above everything else. "I want you to join me when I question him. There is no denying the efficacy of a Force-user in such situations, and Dameron's resistance to physical techniques is already well-known to us."

Not that he couldn't make it work eventually. Because he could. And maybe he _will_.

"I'm still not happy about you going behind my back. I don't interfere with your troops, do I?" Danika says, even if her tone is slightly less combative now. The prospect of taking out some of her aggression on Dameron is making this a little more tolerable.

Especially as she knows how much Kylo not-Ren will feel about that. 

"You just murdered one of them," Hux points out, dryly. "I'm afraid you rather lost the moral high ground at that point. As for your Knights… time was of the essence. And I believed they could handle themselves."

"I hardly think one officer is equal to two Knights. And you set them against the _traitor_. He used to be their Master, if you've forgotten? Or weren't you paying attention?" 

"Oh, I was paying attention. It was my hope that three-on-one would be sufficient. Evidently, _they_ were not. But I was able to take advantage of the situation myself. Having already killed my own traitorous mother, I near-enough did the same to Kylo's. If Leia Organa survives this day, it will be by a hair's breadth."

The remark about his own mother is deliberate, and measured. _That_ whole issue is going to come out sooner or later. Best he control it. Best he use it.

Maybe it's time Danika Ren knew who she is really dealing with.

"Your mother? What the fuck mission were you even on?" Hux, Three Knights, Kylo, Dameron, Organa and… Hux's mother? 

"You tell me _everything_ , right now, or this partnership is over, Hux."

"The Resistance located my mother," Hux starts off, easily. "She was a traitor to the First Order and had been in hiding for more than two decades. They found her and made overtures to me, asking for a meeting. Maybe they believed she could actually convince me to sue for peace. Maybe they just wanted to throw me off balance. Either way, they were sorely mistaken. I attended their meeting, I listened to what my mother had to say, and then I stabbed her to death in front of them all."

"But there is more to it than that," he goes on. "My mother was not just some nameless military wife. She was married to my father in the first place to keep her quiet, so that no one would realise who she really was."

A beat. Time to do this. Time to say the words to another person, to make them real.

"My mother was the – apparent – only child of Sheev Palpatine. I am the Emperor's grandson."

Danika Ren stares in shock and horror. "But… you don't have the Force…" Though there's a worry in her tone. He could. He could have it, and have concealed it from everyone. Everyone.

"No," Hux replies, calmly. "I don't have the Force. Neither did my mother. I did not need it. I got this far – as far as my grandfather – _without_ it."

"…did the Supreme Leader know?"

"We never discussed it overtly, but I am confident beyond measure that he did. Vader's grandson and Palpatine's grandson, at his left and right hands."

It clearly isn't computing. Danika just can't conceive of how he could have kept this from them all. Palpatine's grandson? "If that was true, you wouldn't have been following the Leader." 

"Why not?" Hux counters. He knows he has to play this right. Knows that Danika will continue to see his lack of the Force as an inherent weakness, not freedom from a needless crutch. "Supreme Leader Snoke was a great man. Under his rule, we achieved many things. But there was never any doubt in my mind that I was to be his successor."

"Did you let Kylo kill him?" Because that would just be the kind of cowardly thing she'd expect from Hux. After all, if he has no Force, he wouldn't be able to do it himself, would he? And Snoke had shown no deterioration through age. 

"No. You know as well as I that I wasn't aboard the _Decimator_ that day, nor had I been in quite some time." Hux gives a little headtilt, surprising even himself with how calm he's managing to remain. "The Supreme Leader knew Kylo would come after him again. He welcomed it. He wanted to seize his favourite pupil back once more."

"Then how did you plan to take over? You don't have the Force. You need the Force." Which is – to her – self-evident. Surely he has to understand that? Because no one leads the Order – or the Empire – without it. 

"Do I?" Despite it all, Hux smiles, just slightly, and holds his hands out to the sides. "I am Supreme Leader of the First Order. I didn't need to plan to take over. I just _did it_."

"You won't hold it. You _need_ the Force. Didn't you learn that from your grandfather… or… did you even meet him? The Emperor?" Danika has no idea how old Hux is. 'Older' is as far as she'll go for certain. 

"No. I never met him. He refused to have anything to do with my mother, once he had married her off to someone who would keep her quiet."

'He refused to have anything to do with _me_ ' is also implicit in this, but Hux does not voice that part.

"And yes, I will hold it, and I will tell you why. Emperor Palpatine was killed by his apprentice. Supreme Leader Snoke was killed by his apprentice. The Force was what undid them. But I have no apprentice. I need no apprentice. I am not Sith, nor Darksider, nor Force-user. I am a _soldier_."

"Soldiers die, too, you know." After all, Danika killed one only minutes ago. "A little more easily than Force-users do. I could kill you before you even reach for your sidearm."

And oh, hasn't she thought about it in explicit, intricate, loving detail for some time now. Long streams of bloodied, screaming, or neck-snapping ways of getting rid of her main problem (other than the traitor and the Resistance). 

"You could," Hux replies, with a calm nod. Calm on the outside, at least. Deep down the threat riles him intensely, but he's too much in control to act on it, or even let it show. "I wonder how long you and your sister and your broad-shouldered compatriot would last, without the First Order's support? Thanks to us, you have had near-limitless resources at your disposal. You have been borne from planet to planet in search of this Eye of Chikara that you so desperately seek. You think true power is merely about who can kill whom the fastest? It is not. It is anything but."

"Well, who _dies_ **loses** ," Danika points out. "Because they're dead. So all the power in the galaxy means nothing, because they're _dead_." 

It is like talking to a small child, isn't it? He's really that dumb. She **should** snap his neck. Right now. 

Hux stares at her, right where her eyes would be, without that helmet to hide them. "You're afraid. You lash out because it is the only way you can deal with your fear, and you cover over it with aggression and posturing, but deep down you are _afraid_. You want to be powerful _beyond_ the moment? Stop thinking with your lightsabre and start seeing the bigger picture, because right now I am the _only_ ally you have, and I think you have forgotten how crucial that is."

"You got two of my Knights killed. I don't particularly trust your strength right this instant. How could I trust you after that?" 

Danika had never been close to Meryth and Fayed, but that is not the point. Now it's just Jolek (who is even less personable on his own), her, and her sister. Hardly an army. 

"Maybe it's _their_ strength you should be questioning, and your own right along with it," Hux says. "Maybe the issue here is not your dislike of me, but the fact that _you are not ready_ to take on your former master."

He rather wishes they were. He did keep them around for precisely that reason. But… there is still time.

"I could kill him." She could. Couldn't she? But the uncertainty is there in Danika's tone, in her choice of words. She wants to, but she isn't sure – yet – if she's strong enough. With the Eye, maybe…

"With his pilot, we have the leverage we need to control him, anyway."

"For the time being, yes," Hux agrees. He does not comment on the rest. Leaving the matter open is far more effective. "And that is something we need to take advantage of. But we must not become complacent. So long as we have Dameron, Kylo will stop at nothing to retrieve him – and he has the full force of the Resistance at his back. And when he comes after us – he and the scavenger from Jakku – you will finally face your test."

"Daria and I will kill them," Danika insists. "And Jolek with us. This is a matter of… this is a matter of pure revenge." 

And she has plenty of rage in her, plenty of Dark. Kylo betrayed more than Snoke when he left, and now she's going to see what he did it all for. And then take it from him. Slowly. Piece by piece. 

Hux smiles again. It is not a pleasant expression. "Hold onto that determination," he says. "You're going to need it. For now… I believe it is time to begin torturing Poe Dameron out of his mind."

He gestures to the door. "Would you care to join me?"

For once, it's something she can agree with. She's still angry, but the prospect of hurting Dameron? That's a close second to murdering Hux.

The General takes the silence as acquiescence. "Perfect," he says, and turns to hit a button on his desk. "This is General Hux. Have Dameron brought in for interrogation. Myself and Lady Ren will be there shortly."

"At once, sir," comes the reply. "But, before you do… there's something you need to see."

There is? Well. That's certainly unexpected.

Maybe this day is about to get even better.


	28. Shards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salutations, readers, and a very happy Saturday to you all! Today, we bring you our next chapter, which consists mostly of cold-blooded torture. Whether you consider this a warning or a promise, we leave to your individual discretion...
> 
> ;-)

Poe Dameron wakes up with a headache.

And that's not all. He also wakes up with his hands cuffed behind his back, in a near-pitch-black room. He manages to drag himself into a sitting position, resting against the nearest wall, but his whole body hurts and it takes some doing.

He remembers… _fuck_.

Onderon. He remembers Onderon. He remembers seizing Kylo's second lightsabre and trying to kill General Hux with it, after the man knifed his own mother to death. He remembers a battle, remembers going one-on-one with the tallest of the Knights of Ren. He remembers Revan's droid killing one of them, and Kylo taking out another.

He remembers Hux shooting Leia in the stomach.

Poe jams his eyes shut and presses his forehead into his knees. He doesn't know if Leia is still alive. He doesn't know if _Kylo_ is still alive. All he knows is he can't feel his husband through their bond, but distance would be enough to explain that, and he's got to hope and pray that Kylo made it off Onderon. That he took Leia with him. That Poe hasn't just got two of the most important people in his whole world horribly killed.

It's some time before his brain even processes the more immediate problem. The First Order has him. The First Order has him, _Hux_ has him, and the likelihood is that this is going to end precisely the way he thinks it is.

And, contrary to the misconception, most masochists do _not_ enjoy cold-blooded torture. Especially by people who have murdered countless numbers of their friends and allies.

His mind just… shuts down, a little, and he doesn't know how long he sits in the dark, trying not to think about any of it. Trying not to think about what's going to happen when that door _opens_.

Then it does.

There are four Stormtroopers beyond – and potential Finns they are not – and they manhandle him to his feet, dragging him out. The light in the corridor is painful to begin with, but Poe hardly notices it, far more worried about where they're taking him.

The trouble is, he already knows. And the worst part is, he's confident it's the very same room as…

Don't think it. Don't. _Don't_.

He's pulled into the interrogation room and strapped into the chair that's dead-centre. With that done, the troopers withdraw, and Poe rocks his head back against the cold metal, trying to get his reactions under control. Trying not to let the barest flicker of emotion show.

Trying not to dwell on the lingering knowledge that this is all his fault.

Mere moments later, the door springs open again, and two figures pace into the room. Two figures who represent the worst possible way this could go.

Alek Hux and Danika Ren.

"Comfortable?" Danika snarls, spitting the word out in a 'whether you are or not I'm going to make it much, much worse very soon' tone of voice. She strides a little bouncy-fast to keep up with Hux, but the minute they're in, she flicks her hand and bangs Poe's head backwards.

It hurts. On some level he's ready for it, but it hurts.

"Amateur," he throws back at her.

"Now, now, watch your tongue," Hux cuts across. Apparently he's the good one today. He and Danika haven't outright planned a word of this, but sometimes instinct just directs these things accordingly. "A man in your position ought to be more careful."

"Go to Hell," Poe retorts. He sounds defiant, but the truth of it all is, he's flatly terrified. And he knows the damn Force-user will be able to pick up on it. And no matter how hard he tries to get himself to calm down, he can't.

Something is wrong. Beyond the immediately obvious. Something is _wrong_.

"It's okay, I can keep him from passing out from the pain. He'll soon learn what the Dark Side is _really_ capable of." Danika sounds power-mad already, her voice skipping with it. The hand that's lifted twists in mid-air, and stretches Poe's spine like he's strapped to a rack. 

Slow, slow pressure that gets exponentially worse, but not so fierce as to dislocate anything. Yet. 

"Please do," Hux tells her, when the worst of the screaming has stopped. "I need him conscious. I have a great many questions."

"I repeat… my earlier statement," Poe gasps out. " _Go to Hell_."

Hux gives a short, cold laugh. "That's the best you can manage? The great Poe Dameron, the unbreakable pilot who defied Kylo Ren himself? You won't be seducing your way out of this one, Resistance scum. The sooner you accept that, the better. Now…"

He's had his hands clasped behind his back since he and Danika came into the room, and he unclasps them now, revealing the object he's brought with him: the same object that his underling needed them to see, before they came in here.

It's a thin crystal shard, maybe four or five inches long, hued in reddish-purple. Hux holds it up, for Poe to see.

And Poe goes _cold_ , like he's just been dunked into freezing water.

"Where did you get that?" he whispers.

Danika goes to stand behind the pilot's chair, grabbing his head between both hands. Her thumbs slide perilously close to his temples, fingers squeezing into his cheeks. "I think the real question is: where did you? Where did you find a Dark crystal? Hmm?"

Poe keeps staring at the crystal, very genuinely thrown. "I've never seen that thing before," he insists. "Never. Whatever you're playing at, it won't work."

Hux doesn't bother to hide the smile at that, detecting the conviction in the pilot's voice, realising that he actually _believes_ what he's saying. "We took it from you," he says. "When you were captured. You were carrying it on your person."

"I have _never seen that thing before_ ," Poe repeats.

The Knight slams Poe's face back front and centre, towards Hux's hands. She leans over his shoulder, her mask grazing his shoulder. "You had it secreted away. What's wrong? You realise what you've given us? The advantage you delivered right into our hands?"

Poe keeps staring at the crystal shard. The crystal shard that he's never seen before. That he can't explain. That…

 _…a flash of memory: the cockpit of the_ Phoenix _, the day he and Kylo went to Chikara. The lingering cold from the visions they shared, and the way Poe felt when he tried to meditate on one of the pieces of crystal they brought back… when he saw… when he felt…_

 **Fuck**.

He _has_ seen it before. It's the crystal shard he held in his hands, on the _Phoenix_. The one that showed him all those images. But… this is impossible. It's _impossible_ , because he **remembers** storing it inside BB-8, when they were done. He **remembers** turning all the shards over to the Resistance's scientific team.

He _**remembers**_.

…Right? Or…

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I… I didn't even…" he tries, but the words won't form, his mind all but whiting-out as the truth slowly but unrelentingly dawns on him.

"It's from Chikara," Danika says, looking up to Hux. "The idiot didn't even know he had it. I've seen." 

As her hands move, the pounding pressure of her interruption into Poe's mind abates, and she walks around in front of him. Far too easy. It's not even her forte, and she read him just like that. "Now. Next question?" she asks Hux. 

All Poe can do is keep staring at the crystal shard, dumbstruck with horror. Has he really been carrying that thing with him and not known it? Was it there the whole time? Was..?

Deep at his core, he realises why he's felt so _wrong_ since he first came to: as though an old, old blade has been yanked from inside him, leaving a wound as fresh as the day it was first made. And all the rage, all the anger, all the _darkness_ … all of it has melted away; leaving him…

…Leaving him washed-out and exhausted and slowly but surely realising the extent of what he's done over the past few weeks.

 _Fuck_.

"Where to start?" he's vaguely aware of Hux saying. The look in the General's eyes is extraordinarily bad news, and Poe knows it. "I think perhaps we should begin by discussing the location of the Resistance base. Tell us. Tell us, Dameron, and spare yourself at least _some_ of the otherwise inevitable pain."

"I would rather _die_ ," Poe hisses, with every ounce of strength he can muster.

Danika's little snort of amusement is still so very bitter. "You know, the two are not mutually exclusive. You'll die, eventually, but you'll tell us _everything_ you know, first." 

Another pass into his mind, this one harsher, making it sting and burn. She has no finesse with it, but the brute force of it lets her get a wedge into his mind. "Where is your traitor, Kylo, now? Where is he, wishing you were there to tend to his needs?" 

"You… witless… _amateur_ ," Poe gasps out, pressing his eyes shut, desperately trying to fight against the presence in his head. He can't – and he knows he can't – but it won't stop him giving it everything he's got.

But he's well-aware it won't be enough. Even without Kylo's finesse, a Force-user is still a Force-user.

And then there's the part where this is the first time he's had someone in his head against his will since…

…since…

"He was _my Master, too_ ," Danika purrs. "Not Kylo. **Him**. Who do you think really taught us the Dark Side? What's wrong? Did he hurt you harder than this?"

She concentrates with all her will, sending a mental wash of pain through, like a fire licking closer around him. It means she has to focus and not talk, but the extra concentration lends her power. 

When she's sure it's as much as she can do, she sends a thought of _Kylo_ in, trying to prompt Poe's mind down that route. 

" _Fuck_ ," Poe gasps in shock, the horror starting to build now, not merely at the situation but at the connotations. "I won't… I won't tell you anything… I won't let you…"

"You will," Hux says, his voice soft and level, and so very _sure_. Kylo never used to let him in the room during interrogations, so Hux has more than a slight academic interest in seeing this particular technique up close. Also it means he gets to watch their subject suffer, and damn, but the man deserves it. "You'll tell us whatever we ask. You know you will. And the sooner you do, the sooner this will stop."

This is a lie. Once they have the intel they need, Hux will let Danika torture their prisoner for as long as she wants, and if it gives her some catharsis – and takes the edge off her feelings of rage towards _him_ – he'll do it gladly. But Dameron doesn't have to know that.

Not that it will make a blind bit of difference. The man will resist 'til the bitter end.

And oh, it will be _bitter_.

"And I repeat my earlier assertion," Poe manages to add, glaring at Danika. "You're an _amateur_. Kylo had already broken me by this point."

Not technically true, but close enough. And anything that takes the conversation away from _Snoke_ , he has to try, because he knows he won't last long at all if Danika continues down that particular route.

"But he didn't, did he? You ran away. He was _weak_ because of you." She walks in front of him, and pulls her fist back over her hip. Recoil, then push through, the target in her mind several inches into his body. 

And it doesn't just hurt as if she's punched, oh no. She makes sure the blow magnifies over and over, then punches his other side, back and forth, pummelling into his solar plexus. She's angry: angry he _stole_ Kylo, angry her Knights are falling apart, angry with Hux… and Poe is just a convenient place for her to hone her rage to a fine, killing point. 

"Weak?" Poe manages, his voice cracked in half and the world rapidly going hazy, as the pain burns through his body. "He's _winning_. And everything you do to me will only make him _worse_. He's a _Sith_ , you crazy bitch. And you just drew a target squarely in the centre of your helmet and invited him to come get you."

He knows he won't be able to hold out for long. His only chance is to push Danika's buttons, to make her angry, in the hope that she'll overdo it and render him unconscious.

Or. You know. Worse.

But he can't give up the base. He can't.

Her hand lifts, but doesn't connect physically: an invisible fist around Poe's throat, squeezing him almost to blacking out, but never quite tipping over the edge. Danika is very much unimpressed with his posturing. Very much.

The sooner he screams again, the better.

"Let him try. He'll lose. Tell me where he is, I'll go and kill him myself. _Where. Is. Kylo. Ren_?"

"O-Organa-Solo," Poe gasps. "Kylo _Organa-Solo_. I doubt you'll have to wait long for him to show up. _I hope he lets me watch_."

He doesn't. Mere hours ago, he likely would have begged for it, but now… all the anger is gone, and he can still feel the void in his soul where it once came from. And he _knows_ that crystal shard is responsible and it _terrifies_ him.

" _Tell me where he is_." Her voice goes deeper, then, as she reaches behind her to pull Hux's vibroblade from his belt with the Force. Up, and active, and under Poe's throat. "Tell me. Or I'll send you to the Senate, an inch at a time. Which inch should I take, first?"

Hux tuts at her and all but rolls his eyes. She really _doesn't_ have Kylo's finesse. But, at the same time, he's enjoying watching this more than enough to intervene just yet. He paces a little, toying with the crystal shard he's still holding, ready to step in if Danika goes too far. They do need Dameron alive and talking, after all. For now.

Poe manages a short, rough laugh. "I don't know where he is. But I'll feel him, when he gets closer. When he runs you and your sister through without breaking a sweat."

He knows what he's asking for. He's played this game before. And this one, you don't win with the card up your sleeve. You win it by setting fire to the table.

The blade cuts up, suddenly, a thin stripe across one cheek: jaw to temple. Deep enough to draw blood, but more for the pain of it than to cause any lasting mark. Then it moves to his ear, and she pinches the lobe between finger and thumb, intent on carving a small section of him off, as promised. 

" _Danika_."

Hux moves fast, catching Danika's arm before she can go any further. The first-name use slips out – he never calls her by it, especially in public – but he doubts she'll even notice (and if she does, he doesn't care).

"We need him conscious. And intact." For now. Later, she can do what she wants. But before the _pleasure_ comes the _purpose_. You don't go straight to the endgame when your subject hasn't yet said anything useful.

Poe opens his eyes – jammed shut when that blade came in close – when he realises what's just happened, and it's a testament to how intense the fear is that, this time, he doesn't dare speak.

"He can live without it," Danika snaps, her hand tightening on the blade's hilt, her stance going stiffer, angry. She doesn't appreciate being fettered like this, least of all by _him_. And they haven't come to any Good General, Bad Jedi agreement. 

"I can keep him awake. Have you no stomach for blood, General?" 

"Oh, I have the stomach for it," Hux answers. "But I don't have the patience to sit and wait for the man to regain consciousness. I want the location of that base. _Get it_. Then you can do what you want with him."

"Awwww… are you guys _fighting_?" Poe chokes out, trying to sound amused by the prospect.

Hux backhands him without the slightest hesitation. "The Resistance base," he re-iterates. "Tell us where it is. Or I will walk out of here and leave Lady Ren to do her worst."

Danika goes into Poe's mind, this time, though… she projects. She projects the sound of two tiny, broken voices sobbing in stereo. Terrified feelings, the smell of blood and cauterised flesh and soldered clothing. 

And a boy. A boy in padawan browns. A boy with dark, sunken eyes and grim determination on his face. _He was Ben, once_ , she reminds him. It's a little less real, but it's still a memory that's true, and has all the qualities of one. _He destroyed the Jedi_.

" _Stop_ ," Poe gasps, but he's pleading now. Not that. Not that. He can't see that day again. Not when he remembers the last time he…

The memory flares, and the worst part is, he doesn't even think Danika has pulled that one to the fore; merely coaxed it there instead.

A dark room. A _Dark_ figure.

No, no, no, no…

Hux doesn't know precisely what Danika has just done, but he can tell that it's having an effect, just from the look on their prisoner's face.

"Tell us," he says, softer once more. "Tell us where the base is. Tell us…" …why not? Hux lifts the crystal shard and taps it against Poe's jaw, just to make him think about it again. To make it impossible _not_ to think about it, and the connotations is obviously has in his mind.

"No…" Poe whispers, with no conviction in his voice. A man right on the edge.

And Hux can tell. And… he decides to take a risk. It will either work spectacularly well, or it will be a spectacular disaster.

But… he's having a good day so far.

"As you wish," the General replies, and steps back. "Do your worst," he says to Danika.

And, without another word, he stalks out of the room.

Danika immediately rounds on Poe's mind, mangling together his images and hers. Like a dream, where various threads slide in and out of one another: a man too-tall, whose shadow dwarfs small children. Poe, right there, alongside Ben and his refugees.

A voice. A voice that is as old as the stars. As old as language, or so it feels to the small ones staring up.

 _This is your home, now_ , the Leader tells them. _Whatever your life was before, it is over. Over. This is where you belong, children. I will make you strong, and I will keep you safe._

"Where did you come from?" Danika pushes, inside and out of the nightmare-vision. "Where was home?"

Poe screams, in anger, in pain; in flat, honest-to-the-Force terror. The echoed memory of _his_ voice somehow worse than anything Danika could do with that vibroblade. It's like broken glass being dragged through his soul, when the previous wounds are still raw.

"…D'Qar…" he chokes out. It isn't forethought or an attempt to deceive that makes the wrong name slip his lips. Right now… he isn't quite sure _when_ he is, so the revelation feels honest, and genuine, and real.

And, therefore, like a knife to the gut.

" _Thank_ you," she purrs, and steps back. She pulls all the way out of his head, knowing that the worst feeling of all will be the knowledge he's betrayed his precious Resistance.

"When we drop by to destroy them, we'll be sure to let them know you were the one who led us to them." 

Poe doesn't say a word. He can't. He closes his eyes again and tries to blot out the world; tries to push away the realisation that he's living through one of his very worst nightmares.

 _Again_.

Danika smiles. "Pleasant dreams. _Pilot_." The term is deliberate, and it echoes into his skull as she slams him all the way into the black, letting the sounds and sight-memories of Snoke bounce around his mind as she does so, making sure his dreams are anything _but_.

And then she leaves.

D'Qar.

They have somewhere to be.

***

The Resistance fleet hurtles through hyperspace.

They've left Tahanan far behind, and are now en route to the beta site – the name of which has not yet been widely circulated – to begin the establishment of their next base. And, unsurprisingly, the overall mood is sombre. Leia Organa is still alive, but lies critically ill in the main medbay, unconscious.

And everyone knows it. Their General almost died, and their lead starfighter pilot is in the hands of the enemy, and suddenly everything is falling apart.

In the medbay itself – aboard the _Star of Alderaan_ – Leia lies hooked up to monitoring equipment, right and left. A full Bacta-immersion seems to have done her a great deal of good, but the fact that she's still unconscious has the doctors worried. Right now, Kylo, Han and Chewbacca are at her bedside, along with Kes Dameron, who seems utterly lost; like his mind isn't processing anything properly.

Kylo wants to talk to them, but he also wants to hurl them all out of the room. Kes… Kes is his father-in-law, who knew his mother before he was even born, and he's family now. As is Han, and as is Chewie.

He still wants them to go away, but also wants them to stay, and it's a confusing, awkward mess. He keeps looking up, then back at the monitor, and then back at his mother.

"She's going to make it, right?"

They know as much as he does, but he still wants to defer to them as the Adults in this situation. No matter how old he is, this is his _mother_.

"We've got through worse, kiddo," Han says. "Your mom will pull through." 

Chewie roars worriedly.

"What he said."

"I've seen people recover from worse," Kes adds, shakily. "And… you got her back in time, so…"

He trails off, like he's not quite all here.

"I told her not to go. I told her. But she insisted. I couldn't stop her…" Kylo's hands grab at the side of the bed, and he's clearly angry, but more at himself than at her. "I tried. I did." 

He looks between them, pleadingly. He did everything, but he shouldn't have let it get that far in the first place. He knew Poe was not… as level-headed as he could be, and he knew that Hux was an asshole, so why did he let this happen? Why?

"We all know when Leia wants to do something, you ain't stopping her," Han reminds him. "Not even an Empire would stop her. So don't you go blaming yourself."

"Who else _is_ there to blame?" Kylo counters. "Because as far as I can tell, everyone else is dead, injured, or captured."

"Yeah, and you got her back here, and you're gonna get Poe back, too."

"By what? Sitting here, doing nothing?"

"We're getting your mom to safety, and then we can talk about getting Poe back. We're not giving up on him… Kes. Back me up, why don't ya?"

"We have to get him back," Kes says, like the words have just pulled him out of his own head. "The thought of the First Order having him again… after what happened last time…"

Then his eyes go to Kylo and he looks horribly guilty. "Fuck. Sorry. I didn't mean…"

"You mean, after the last time, when I had him as my prisoner, and I interrogated and tortured him? Oh, don't worry, I know precisely what's at stake," Kylo says, and maybe he should be more considerate himself, but right now he's wondering…

Danika. It'll be her. Maybe Jolek will join in. It won't be like – be like… Snoke… but it will be damn well bad enough. The only consolation he has is that it _isn't_ Snoke. 

"That droid you came back with… can it help us track Poe down?" Han asks, trying to change the subject.

"It doesn't seem particularly friendly," Kes says. "Are you sure you even trust it?"

"It was Revan's… the Sith who created Eigengrau? He'll be loyal to me, because I'm her… well. Heir. And if he seems unfriendly, remember he was designed to be an assassin," Kylo points out. "I have no reason not to trust him. He killed one of the Knights for us."

Kes nods, seeming content with Kylo's answer, though the mention of what happened on Onderon obviously drags his thoughts back to the immediate situation. And to the question that he now gives voice to. "How did it all go wrong?" he asks. "How… how did Poe get himself captured?" A beat, and a flare of emotion. "Why wasn't he more _careful_?"

Kylo just stops for a moment. Stops, like he can't think, or speak. His mind freezes on the memory, and he realises he has to answer… even if he doesn't want to.

"When… when Hux killed his mother… Poe… he lost it. He went for the sabre, and he tried to kill him. I… I tried to stop him, but I wasn't… there were three Knights, and Poe's not really trained, and Mom only had a blaster, and Orinna was dead…"

"I just… I don't understand why Poe would do something so… _stupid_ ," Kes manages, pushing ahead even though it clearly isn't easy. "But…"

He trails off for a moment, then struggles to meet Kylo's eyes. "…But he hasn't been right for days. Maybe longer. Has he?"

The Knight can't keep his gaze long, shame making him shake and lower his head. "No. He's… been… he's been on edge. He attacked Tovim. Multiple times. We…"

Does he tell them? Han already knows, probably. "We had psych-evals done to… I mean it wasn't _just_ him, but I was worried, and…"

"I know about the psych-evals," Kes answers. "Poe told me they were routine, though… I didn't exactly believe him. And… I mean, I knew he was under a lot of pressure. What happened with the Senate, and this crystal you've been trying to find, and…"

The older man looks down too. "Whenever I mentioned it, he insisted he was fine. But he wasn't. He was always so _angry_ , and that just isn't like him. It… I can't make sense of it."

Chewie also doesn't understand, shaking his head and adding a guttural note of disbelief. 

"It was since Chikara, I think," Kylo says. "We went into… into this room that gave us visions. It was covered in blood, and we… we saw ourselves… we saw ourselves as joint rulers, like… like the Emperor had been." 

He looks at them pleadingly. "We were stealing children." 

Han frowns. "Kylo… you wouldn't do that. You do know, right?"

"Do I? How do I? Look what Poe did!"

"There's a big difference between attacking someone on the opposing side and outright stealing _children_ ," Kes insists, though there's an edge to his voice that is nigh-on pleading with someone – anyone – to agree with him.

"He…" Kylo doesn't think Poe would steal children. Not right _now_. But next to the crystal? He might. "That thing is **evil**. It's been used by the Dark for so long that it's all it is. Dark. You… you don't understand what that's _like_."

"And… wait, you think this thing is affecting him?" Kes asks. "How is that even possible? He isn't a Force-user. And you don't even know where this crystal _is_."

"He can see Revan, when he's in the room with me," Kylo points out. "And he's connected to the Force – everyone is – but even more so because he's Bonded with _me_."

"He can… OK, that's…" Kes gets up and paces a little, clearly having a hard time processing all this. "So, if that's the case… you think there's some way this crystal could be affecting him? Even though it might be on the other side of the galaxy?"

"It's massive. It… it can find any Force-sensitive, no matter where they are. It's… it's something more powerful than I've ever encountered, first-hand. It was so powerful that the Sith themselves were desperate to find it. So." Kylo runs the back of his fingers over the back of his mother's hand.

"And you're gonna blow this rock up, right? Because giant, killer, murder rock? Doesn't sound like something you bring home for Show and Tell," Han says.

"Yes. I want to blow it up. I… wanted to use it first, before, but I think the only safe thing is to destroy it forever, now."

"Well, that's a relief," Kes replies. "If this thing is as powerful as you say, it sounds far too dangerous to keep around. And… if it can affect Poe to the point where he… Yes. You need to destroy it."

Kylo opens his mouth to say something, but before the words get to the point of coming out, his eyes widen and nothing but a _scream_ rips out of him.

"Kylo? Kylo?" 

Chewie echoes the distress, and the two men are moving to rock him gently, hands and paws and Kylo turns into Chewie's chest, burrowing in, shaking and as white as a sheet.

"Kiddo… what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

" _Poe_ ," he manages, and holds on so tight to Chewie that his fingers hurt. 

Kes' whole expression is wracked with horror as he processes what Kylo must mean, and he turns, smacking a hand into the nearest wall and then dropping his head against it. "How bad?" he asks.

The man doesn't want the answer, not really. If he does, Kylo doesn't want to give it to him, anyway. He can feel… anguish. Emotional, more than physical, but the physical is enough, too. A hideous sensation of burning, and he tries so very, very hard to radiate good things back through the Bond, but that's very difficult when he's this empty, this… hurting himself.

"We need to rescue him," is all he can say.

"We will. We'll get him back. We got you back, remember?"

After how long, Kylo adds, without saying it aloud. He won't manage if Poe's gone that long. He's not sure Poe will, either.

"We have to," Kes says, turning to face them again. "We have to get him out of there. We have to bring him home."

Another wave of agony, and Kylo pulls back, not wanting any contact whatsoever. He just… can't. Can't let them touch him. Not when everything is burning, not when he feels like he might hurl at any moment.

"I'm _sorry_ ," he says, hands up in his hair. "I-- I can't. I… I need… I'm sorry." 

He doesn't wait for their responses, running out of the med bay and through corridors, past people, all the way to the furthest, least populated part of the ship.

Only the vacuum on the other side of the bulkhead keeps him from trying to run further. He's aware of every single heartbeat on the craft, suddenly, and how none of them are Poe. None of them are who he needs most in the galaxy.

Poe's heart is racing fit to burst, hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of lightyears away. He's out there, and Kylo doesn't know _where_ , and he curls into the smallest ball his large frame will go into. Poe. Oh, this is all his fault. He didn't protect him. He should have. He should have, and now Poe is in terrible, terrible danger.

And he can't do a thing to save him.

"I'm sorry," he tells everyone, and no one, at the same time. "I'm sorry."


	29. Lost & Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everybody! It's time for our next chapter, which is mostly aftermath from our _previous_ chapter... with a nice little sting in the tail. ;-)
> 
> We hope you enjoy!

Poe wakes up in the dark.

He doesn't know how long he's been unconscious, or when he was moved; only that he's in one of those barely-lit cells again, sprawled on the floor, hands cuffed behind his back.

He hurts. His head hurts. His chest hurts. _All_ of him hurts, though the line between physical and mental pain is badly blurred right now, and he can't tell how much of it is real, and how much of it is merely a product of what Danika Ren did to his mind.

Everything is disjointed; a cold, confused hell, and him at the centre, unable to work his way through it, unable to find the light, to…

_Fuck_. He remembers echoes in his head; echoes of Snoke, echoes of **that day** , and he knows Danika pulled them to the fore deliberately. Knows that she wanted him to remember, to hurt, to live through it again, even only as shadow and memory.

It hurts a great deal more than the physical side of it. Than what the woman was doing with that _knife_.

Poe pulls himself into a sitting position, against the nearest wall, and rests his head on his knees. And, even though the room he's in is barely visible, he jams his eyes shut, wanting to force everything else out, to…

Why _didn't_ Danika do worse? He knows she tried. He knows the only reason she didn't was because Hux stepped in, and why would the man do that, except…

The end goal. Danika wanted Poe to suffer. But Hux… he wanted something in particular. He wanted…

_The base_.

Poe gasps out loud as he remembers. Remembers what Hux was pushing for. What he made sure Danika pushed for. And…

…and Poe gave it up. Didn't he? He did. He gave up the base. He might just have condemned everyone he cares about to a fate worse than death, and he's only got to hope they get off Taha–…

…wait.

_Wait_.

He didn't say Tahanan. Poe isn't sure why, but he knows that, at the crucial moment, wracked by what Danika was doing to him, by the shadows of days past… a different name slipped out. _D'Qar_. And she believed him?

Maybe she did. Up until now, Poe believed it too. And if he deceived himself…

…Maybe he just bought the Resistance more time. Time to move. Time to get away. Time to run to the beta site – the location of which Poe doesn't know, and can't betray – before the First Order realise their mistake and…

…OK, don't think that part. The part that leads back to **that** room.

The moment of relief is intense, but quick. He's apparently managed to wrong-foot Danika, but he knows he'll pay for it in the end. And then there's the whole issue with…

Poe can't think it. He still remembers his whole body going _cold_ when he saw that crystal shard, the one he's sure must have come from the Eye of Chikara itself. And he has no idea how he can have been carrying the thing around with him without knowing it, without _Kylo_ knowing it, but – at the same time – he's sure he has. Sure it's been there, constantly, hiding _itself_ from everyone. From him. Even from Kylo. There, with him, and an echo of it deep in his mind, making him…

The memories keep coming, broken and disjointed, and suddenly making so much sense. The rage he couldn't stamp down. The _need_ to act, beyond anything he would usually feel. The unease, the sense of wrongness, the poison at his core.

The desire to find the Eye of Chikara, and use it to destroy the First Order. To win. To build up something even more powerful in its wake, and…

_Fuck_.

This is all his fault. He tipped the balance on Onderon. He drove a wedge between Kylo and Tovim so no kind of reconciliation would be possible. He wanted a weapon, when everyone else merely wanted to be safe from one.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, softly, as if there was some way Kylo could hear. Not at all sure if he'll ever get the chance to say the words in person.

But… this was inevitable, wasn't it? It certainly feels that way. He's betrayed his master, as Sith invariably do, and even though he doesn't have the Force, surely it still counts? And, though he didn't actively turn on Kylo, it feels almost as bad. Because of him, the situation fell apart, and two Knights – whom Kylo wanted to try to save – are dead; to say nothing of the fact that Leia was at best seriously wounded, and at worst…

Poe can't think it. He can't. It's too much. He presses his eyes tightly shut again and tries not to think about any of it; tries to force out every last scrap of thought until the blackness outside becomes the blackness within, and…

A flash of memory. Poe doesn't know what brings this image to the fore, and yet…

And yet.

He remembers the tomb on Korriban. The tomb of Darth Malak. The apprentice who betrayed the master over – amongst other things – the Eye of Chikara. He remembers the moment when he'd been so sure the lettering on the surface of the long-dead Sith's sarcophagus was glowing… for him and him alone to see.

Maybe all this _was_ inevitable, in the end. And that?

Somehow that hurts more than anything else in its wake.

***

Kylo doesn't move from his place in the aft of the main command ship. He doesn't want to go where there are more people, not when he can't school his face to be even neutral. All he can feel is sorrow that occasionally flares like a star venting fire; pain that makes his features ripple, makes him bite back calls of anguish and impotence.

The worst of the pain has stopped, and he can only assume that they've paused, or Poe has passed out. He hopes he's out cold. He'll hurt less, in his sleep. 

Knees bent up towards his face, he hugs them tightly, scrunching and releasing his toes inside his boots. He has no idea what he can do that's any use at all; has no aim, no goal, and the best he can hope for is snatches of minutes where he forgets how bad it is. It still _feels_ bad, but the gravity of it is lost for moments of time. Then it hits back, full force, and leaves him reeling.

He'd kill to be unconscious himself. Only his self-flagellation keeps him from asking for some sedatives.

Eventually, the door springs open and light pools into the room from the corridor beyond, as a single figure paces in.

"There you are," says Snap Wexley, as the door slides shut behind him. "I searched half the ship. Should've figured you'd be in the same place where… well. Should've figured you'd be here."

He doesn't move any closer just yet, obviously choosing to play this carefully. "So… you want to talk about it? I guess you probably don't. But, at the same time, we both know you need to. So. That's why you get me."

"There is nothing to say, although I appreciate the offer," Kylo replies, peering up from under the mess that is hair which has had more fingers through it in the past hour than it has in a month. His eyes are puffy, his face blotchy from crying, and he really doesn't look all that happy to see the other man. At all.

A slow, heavy, weary sigh. "It's my fault, Snap. And now Danika has him. And it's _my fault_."

Snap paces in closer – perhaps judging that it's safe enough to do so – and drops down near to where Kylo is sitting, without encroaching on his personal space. "You know who you sound like, don't you?" he asks – and then, without waiting for a response, he answers his own question. "You sound exactly like Poe, right after you were captured by Snoke. Pretty much word for word."

"Yeah. Well. That wasn't his fault, but this _is_ mine." And also, how long was he missing? Because people keep reminding Kylo of that, and he _knows_ how many weeks he was gone, and he does _not_ want to think of the same happening to Poe. Not ever.

Ever.

"I can't do this without him."

"Kylo," Snap says, firmly. _Carefully_. "You're still doing it. Still echoing him. Every word. You don't for one second blame Poe for what happened to you, so why blame yourself for what happened to him? From what you've said, and from what I managed to get out of that alarming droid you brought back, what happened on Onderon was – forgive me – one giant clusterfuck. It wasn't anyone's fault. It was just a very bad situation, and it could have gone worse. You got General Organa back alive, and you know Poe is still alive too. Beating yourself up about it is not going to help."

"I can _feel_ what she's doing to him! Do you have any idea what that's like? To feel the love of your life being **tortured** and having no way to help them, to make it stop?" Kylo's eyes beg for understanding, though how could he? No one can know, if they haven't experienced it for themselves.

She's going to rip him, piece from piece, until he's tatters. Unless Kylo gets there in time. That's the long and short of it. Danika might not have his finesse, but she certainly has rage, and that rage will fuel no end of…

"He's out there, because of me. I don't need him to blame me. _I_ blame me, because it _was_ my fault. I knew he was getting worse, and I – I let him go into the field, and…" And now he's gone, and his mother is almost dead, and Orinna _is_ dead. And they're no further forward with Alek Hux, except for making him perhaps the happiest man in the galaxy.

Which. Was the opposite of what they set out to do.

Snap sits calmly and listens until Kylo finally falls silent. "No," he says, softly, "I don't have any idea what it's like. I do, however, know what it's like to help someone through it. I sat with Poe night after night when you were gone. I let him talk, I let him not talk, I let him yell at me. After a while I let him fight with me, too, though that was mostly because I figured he'd get better with that sabre of yours if he actually had some practice facing off against a real person. I'm here because I know how to do this, and because you need someone who will."

A pause, and a deep sigh. "We all knew he was getting worse. You're not the only one who saw it. At least half the squadron had been to ask me what was going on, and that was _before_ they dragged us all off to therapy. Which wasn't too subtle, by the way, but I guess you and General Organa had to do something. If you're to blame for letting him back out there, Kylo, then I am too, and so is your mother. None of us wanted to ground him. We all knew the effect it would have."

"And that would have been nothing compared to what's happening to him right now," Kylo counters. He can't help the twist of pain in his gut at the knowledge of how Poe had dealt with his own… disappearance. His husband rarely talks about that time, and neither does Kylo. It's not something they'd wanted to dwell on, but it makes sense that he'd relied on the support of his friends and family.

Something that's harder for Kylo to do. He lets his head fall back, eyes shutting, watching the tiny sparkles dance across the red-black of his lids. "I had the Force to protect me, even… to a small degree. It wasn't enough to stop the pain, but it meant it hurt less than it could have. But he doesn't even have the Force, and Danika _hates me_ for leaving them. I destroyed her whole life – twice – and now she gets to do the same to me. Not to mention _Hux_."

Who Kylo wants to personally feed a lightsabre salad. Minus the salad. 

"I know," Snap replies, and there's a little waver in his voice as he speaks; the level facade betraying a flicker of the fear underneath. "Believe me, I know. And I can only imagine what it must be like to be able to feel some of what he's going through, even from so far away. It used to rip Poe in half when it happened to him, and I guess it must be even stronger for you. But… you have to be strong, Kylo. You have to keep yourself together, so you can get him back. If you get lost in the cycle of blame, it will only slow you down."

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that? I'm – I'm not – I'm not _magic_. You do realise I ran away from home the first time because I wasn't able to control my emotions?" He's not meaning to sound ungrateful, he isn't.

He's very grateful for Snap trying to help him, especially because it's the man's best friend out there, who happens to be his husband. The irritation isn't with him, even if he's bearing the brunt of it. "I'm… what do I do, Snap? What _can_ I do?"

"You stop blaming yourself, for starters," the other man says. There's a careful edge to his words – an obvious awareness of who he's talking to – but he doesn't lose his determination. "And you stop shutting yourself off. There are plenty of people here who care about you, and plenty more who respect you at least. Let us help. When Poe brought you to the Resistance, when you chose to stay… you became _part_ of this team, Kylo. All of us want Poe back, but it's going to take some doing. General Organa can't push for it to happen, not until she recovers, but Statura and Ackbar _will_ listen to you if you step up. So. Step up."

Kylo's not a General. He doesn't even have a rank, other than those the two sides of the Force permit him: _Darth_ and _Master_. One of only two to hold both at once, and one of only two to even hold either, right now. He's not got the veteran experience of someone like Statura and Ackbar, he's barely a fraction of their ages…

…and yet. He knows the First Order better than anyone they have. Better, even, than Finn. He knows Hux, and he knows Danika, and he knows the damned crystal and it's his husband they have. His mother they've injured.

"We need to know where they've taken him. HK… HK might know."

Snap nods. "He might. Assuming you trust him, which I'm guessing you _do_ , or you would never have let him come with us. He might know where Poe is. He might know other things, too. If the Knights of Ren have had him since the incident on Midwanjontû, he has likely picked up plenty of intel."

A hopeful little smile. "They should never have let him go. That was a mistake. What happened on Onderon was a mistake too, though I guess it's hard for you to see that because they took Poe, and because they shot General Organa. But, in the long run… it was."

"…why?" Kylo asks. "Because, from where I'm sitting, it looks like we made all the mistakes. Letting him kill our only asset, letting him hurt my mother and kidnap Poe? You have to have some interesting concept of victory, Snap."

Two Knights down is not nearly enough for what they got out of that.

"I'm not saying it was a victory for us," Snap answers. "It wasn't. My best friend was captured, my General was wounded, and an innocent woman was murdered. It wasn't a victory at all. But they think it was, right now, and they're wrong. _Hux_ is wrong. Two Knights dead, and you can bet their new Master isn't pleased, and HK-47 defected. This not long after another one of their number _already_ defected. And that's to say nothing of the hell that will rain down on them when we go to take Poe back."

If. A treacherous voice says: 'if'. Kylo stamps down on it as hard as he can, eyes so tightly shut he can see the stars above Tahanan from here, and that's another thing they lost. They lost their base, and they lost what passed for a home.

Kylo had been happy, there. He could be happy again, but that had been theirs, really theirs. 

"You're a better man than I am." He fusses his hair back behind his ear, even though it hasn't really escaped at all. "And I should apologise for not being more grateful for this. I am. I just… can't. Feel good. Right now." His eyes beg for understanding, tracking over the other man's face, left to right and back again.

"Kylo," Snap replies, "I didn't come here for gratitude. I came to help." He gives the barest trace of a wry smile. "It's what I do. And, deep down inside, honestly? I'm frightened. Of course I am. My best friend is in danger and everyone else I know and care about is in the process of running for their lives. Who _wouldn't_ be frightened on a day like that? But, I figure I can either run from it, or run _at_ it. And I'm a pilot. Attack runs are our thing."

"I'm a Sith. Screaming bloody murder and stabbing our enemies with lightsabres are ours," Kylo counters, a wry little smile making its way onto his face. "Which I utterly failed to do. Which makes me feel even worse."

Okay, so he got one Knight. But that's not the point. 

"You have any cunning plan other than fly up to whatever ship he's on?"

"Fly up to whatever ship he's on, drop _you_ onto it, then sit back and watch?" Snap suggests. "The only thing holding us back is not knowing where the ship in question is. Once we do… they don't stand a chance. We defeated the _Decimator_. **You** took down Snoke. There is nothing they can throw at us which will top that because, if there was, it would already have hit."

"…is there a reason why you're not taking this to the Admirals?" Kylo asks, lightly teasing. "Because it sounds like you have it all worked out. I'll just show up and do whatever it is you've got planned." 

It sounds nice. He wishes he could just do that: let other people come up with the plans. His life would be much simpler, then. 

"I thought I was," Snap says, with an arch little look right at Kylo. "I'm certainly trying to remind you that you don't have to do this alone. You have Rey and Finn. You have me, if you want me, and there's not a single member of the squadron who wouldn't say the same. And that's not even counting your parents and your father-in-law and your extremely tall uncle. You aren't alone in this. Don't forget that."

"I know. I'm… sorry I ran off today. I just… couldn't be in the room with people while that was happening, and then I felt embarrassed." Because it wasn't exactly a mature way to handle the situation, but being tortured-by-proxy isn't something Kylo's had to handle before, not like that.

"You're all… you're all better than I deserve, you know?"

Snap reaches a hand out and pats Kylo on the arm. "You don't have to be sorry. We all know what you're going through, but none of us really understands what it's like to _feel_ that sort of thing in the Force, except for Rey. But we do understand that the way you're reacting makes perfect sense. It does, Kylo. And if you want to talk about it more, you can, and if you don't, that's fine too."

"And we're not better than you deserve. We're exactly what you deserve. And we're all in this thing together."

"I don't think going into detail about what I can feel will help," Kylo replies. "Just… people knowing it's happening is enough. Knowing, and not being afraid to talk to me. I'm… still me. Just a lot less happy, and a lot more lonely."

His eyes drift shut, and he curls his knees tight to him. "I miss him. So much."

"I know," Snap tells him, softly. "And… you sound like him again. Of course you do. Some nights… he just used to sit for hours and stare at the stars, like he was looking for you out there. But… he found you, in the end. And you'll find him."

"That took months." There. Kylo's said it. He's said the thing… the real thing. It's not so much the level of pain (though that worries him immensely), it's the duration. It's how long Poe might have to put up with it, before they find him. 

"Weeks," Snap replies. "It took weeks. But we won't let that happen this time. We shouldn't have let it happen last time. We will get him back faster, even if I have to steal the entire squadron and recon every sector in this galaxy until we find those sons of bitches. And, don't forget, Snoke is out of the picture. He was smart and sneaky. But Hux? He's arrogant, and he thinks he's winning. And he _will_ slip up."

"I don't think he'll broadcast his location with a picture of Poe across the holonet," Kylo snarks. "He might be arrogant, but he's not stupid. The fact he's still alive and running things should tell you that much."

Oh, he's sneaky all right. Maker knows how sneaky, conniving, smart, and generally too efficient the man is. He'd nearly blown up _multiple_ planets. Multiple. At once. 

"Neither do I," Snap answers, easily. "But I would rather be going up against Hux than Snoke, even ignoring the Force."

He pauses, and then smiles. "'Course, this is all assuming Poe doesn't just break out, steal one of their ships and turn up with another couple of Stormtroopers in tow. Or an entire Star Destroyer."

"…if we leave him long enough, he'll probably have Starkiller Two, have re-named it the 'Happy Fun Ball', and there won't be a war left to fight," Kylo agrees.

"That does sound like Poe," Snap agrees. "Although I'm not sure what Statura and Ackbar – and General Organa – would say if Poe comes back with a full-blown superweapon." A headtilt. "'Put it over there with the others', maybe."

"…what others?" Because, as far as Kylo's aware, the Resistance doesn't have any. Not proper superweapons. And now he's imagining a small, hidden flotilla of them that Poe's secreted away and given nice names to. 

"Mostly I meant you," the other man tells him, patting him on the arm again. Obviously trying to cheer him up – as much as is possible – even though the sentiment is genuine.

"…I have a limited range of effectiveness, though," Kylo replies, with a weak smile. "But I suppose I am relatively deadly, as things my size go." 

"And you'll get the chance to prove it all over again, when we find out where they took Poe." A beat. "I would not want to be one of the poor bastards on guard duty that day."

Snap pauses again, glancing down for a moment. He does a good job of keeping his own emotions under control, but – if you know how to look – the inner turmoil is there to see. The fear for his friend, and for the Resistance.

Kylo can feel it, though. It's just that he doesn't know how to calm him, when he doesn't feel calm himself. He feels like he's falling apart with every single breath, and he wants to explode, scream, and curl into a ball. Maybe in that order.

But still. Snap is trying, and he is grateful. "I'll get him back, if it's the last thing I do. But the second to last thing I do will be taking every single one of them down with me." 

"I don't doubt it," Snap tells him, and it's clear he means it. "You really have turned the tide for us. I hope you know that. And… if you need anything, you come find me. Even if you just want someone to listen to you yell. I mean it. Although possibly we can't do the duelling thing, on account of the part where you would kick my ass into the ground. But, you know. The rest still stands."

"Well, we could always play blind Pazaak again," Kylo replies, with a tilt of his head. "Maybe not right now, but… later."

When he feels less like crying for three years solid. And then smashing things for six. If he's lucky, he might even make the two overlap. 

Snap nods. "Consider it a promise. And remember what I said."

Then he clambers to his feet again. "I'll give you some space. But I'm around if you need me."

And Snap turns, heading out of the room, leaving Kylo to his thoughts.

***

The crystal shard is no bigger than her palm. The edges are smooth, but there's fissures deep within the red walls that reflect and refract, giving off hints of other colours from deep within. 

Danika wonders when it was broken from the main crystal, but if Dameron got it on Chikara itself? It had to be when the Sith found it, and that was thousands of years ago. All that time, split off from the Eye, and she can still feel the Darkness inside its heart.

In her room, with the lights dimmed and her helmet removed, she sits with her legs folded below her on the soft mattress on her bed. The shard sits in her hand, and she glides her thumb over the warm facets, eyes closed as she reaches out through the Force to the eddies and currents within it. Dark. So very, very Dark. The intent of hundreds of Sith, the faces of countless dead Force-sensitives.

Danika lets go of the crystal, allowing the Force to carry it in front of her. Hands resting, palm up, on each knee. It twirls slowly before her closed eyes, and she lets her sense of self expand into the whole of the room. Lets the images the crystal throws out grow louder, and fiercer.

Voices. Faces. Stars. Questions, posed to the monolithic rise of red malice. Directions, and the distant tendrils of every Force-user reaching back to the whole. She can't feel for them, but she knows the main crystal can, and she can feel it, at a remove from where she is, right now. Can feel the promise and the song of completion, of knowledge, of… _power_. Just out of reach. Just beyond her grasp. 

She will have it all. She will have _them_ all. Every soul capable of controlling the Force. Every last one. Hers to command, or to destroy. She'll be the most powerful being in the whole galaxy. Hux will have no choice but to bend the knee, and she'll destroy the traitor for what he did and… it will all work.

Yes. Yes. Tell me. Tell me. _Show me_.

A flash, bright and clear as if her own eyes looked out upon it.

She knows where the Eye is. It's calling to her, demanding she be the one to find it.

Because she's got what it takes to really use it, of course. Danika smiles, and snatches the shard from the air. She squeezes it so hard her knuckles hurt, and pulls her helmet towards her.

"Daria," she says, into her comm unit. "Get Jolek. I know where we're going."


	30. What You Take With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salutations, one and all! We come with our next chapter, in which the Resistance has a new base, and HK-47 has some information he hasn't shared yet.
> 
> And then our heroes have to be somewhere. _Fast_.

Several sectors spinward of Tahanan, and even further into the Outer Rim, lies a planet called Hinansho. The world itself is uninhabited, and barren; covered in jagged mountain ranges with flat plains beneath them. It is one of three planets in a tight binary system, with a red giant and a white dwarf at its core, and the only one of the three planets to be rocky. The other two – gas giants both – lurk further out, dragging asteroids from the distant belt, and occasionally causing them to hurtle inwards.

All in all, it isn't a planet – or a system – that's going to last. But, for now, it is everything the Resistance needs: quiet, distant, uninhabited, and unwanted by anyone else.

And it's here that the beta site is located; here that the fleet has run to, now that Tahanan is no longer safe. The basics of the new base are already waiting for them, and they're soon hard at work constructing something more long-term, on the edge of a plain bordered by high mountains.

It is not Tahanan, and everyone knows it, and feels it. But it is safe, and that is what counts.

It's the morning after their arrival, and everyone is working on getting the base up and running, making sure they'll be back to full operations as soon as possible. The mood is grim, but determined, and much helped by the news that Leia Organa's condition has improved, and the doctors are now listing her condition as stable.

Which is a big step up from 'critical'.

In the midst of it all, Rey and Finn go in search of Kylo. They've given him space thus far – no doubt understanding what he must be going through – but now they need to talk, and doubly-so because there's a big Command Team meeting scheduled for the afternoon.

Everyone on base is calling it the 'What Next'. It seems an apt enough question.

Kylo has gone a little way away from everyone, wanting the distance for himself, more than anything else. The droid was only too willing to follow him, ready to answer questions. Which is good. Because he has a lot. 

"…so I'm technically, sort of, a Jedi as well as a Sith. Although I feel more strongly attuned to the Sith doctrine, and it's more… complicated than that. We're striving for a more balanced, inclusive group. Which Revan is more than pleased with," he says. 

HK-47 considers this carefully. "It seemed an odd idea to me when my first master came up with it, and when her plans did not come to fruition, I assumed the concept would be lost. So… it is pleasing, to see it return. Even if I always found it bizarre that someone would choose to be anything other than pure Sith."

"I am Sith. It is what I feel most attuned with. But I also understand the other side of the Force… the Dark and the Light are not solely the dominion of one side, or the other. I can be a Sith, and use the Light," Kylo explains. "It is more that I use emotion, whereas a Jedi might prefer to-- ah, you can ask Rey yourself." 

Which would be when Rey and Finn approach.

"Question: These are the others you spoke of?" HK asks. "The other members of the Knights of Eigengrau?"

"That's right," Rey replies, looking at the droid with a cautious air. "We also completed Darth Revan's tests. I'm Rey – _Darth_ Rey, technically – and this is Finn."

"I see," is HK-47's response. He looks them both up and down, attention lingering on Rey. "Aren't you a little _small_ for a Sith Lord?"

"Not when my enemies are looking up at me from the ground," the young woman quips, and HK-47 laughs.

"Amused: Indeed," he says, seeming to accept the answer.

"I'm technically one, too," Finn says. "But only because I helped Rey get around the test chambers."

"There is no 'only' about it, Finn." Kylo nods, inviting them both to sit down. "Those chambers were incredibly difficult, even for Force-sensitives." 

"Now there's an understatement," Rey agrees, settling between Kylo and Finn, forming a circle. HK-47 joins them as well, even though he doesn't seem wholly designed for sitting.

"Wistful reminiscence: Revan did not believe in making things easy," HK concurs. "In all matters." There's the barest wry edge to his tone at that as well, though he doesn't elaborate.

"What I wanted to ask you, though… I need to know where they took Poe. I'm assuming the _Finalizer_ has moved, since you were there, but is there anything you can tell us that will help us track it down?" Kylo pushes, gently. 

"Hypothetical: In the first instance, I would presume they would return to the _Finalizer_ ," HK-47 replies. "No doubt it will indeed have moved – to prevent me from leading you right to it, of course. Even those meatbags are not stupid enough to stay where they were. Although there is a risk that, at some point soon, they may move to a different ship. The meatbag known as Hux has been receiving regular reports about a new vessel, being constructed at a secret location. A larger, more powerful ship than the _Finalizer_. It is called the _Successor_ and is – I believe – designed to incorporate the Eye of Chikara, should they manage to find it."

Well. Fuck. Kylo's stomach falls to his knees. "A bigger ship? Did you happen to hear what class it was?"

"Hux likes to use kyber crystals to power his cannon," Finn says, sounding just as distressed. "He'd need a bigger ship, though, to house that kind of energy." 

"I did not," HK-47 answers. "I made an attempt to access the schematics – for future use – but the meatbag had them thoroughly locked down and I was unable to go further without drawing attention to myself. And… I knew it was not the time. But I do know the _Successor_ is supposedly larger and stronger than the First Order's previous flagship… the _Decimator_?"

"…wonderful." Kylo closes his eyes, and takes a slow breath. "And without Copperwing, we're completely blind. What I wouldn't give for a spy in their ranks right now."

"Can we track the ship some other way?" Finn asks. "If it's that big, looking for where the construction materials are going, or…?"

"Bitter statement: The meatbag, Hux, has it surprisingly well-hidden," HK-47 replies. "We may be able to track it down, but it would likely take weeks. We would be better served by locating some other First Order stronghold and extracting the information ourselves. Ideally the fun way."

"You're a little bit scary, you know that?" Rey tells him.

"Proudly: I am a lot scary," the droid answers. "And thank you."

"You're a very good droid," Kylo says. "And I mean that in a non-patronising way, even if it sounds like… okay, I'm going to shut up, now."

HK-47 gives Kylo a flat look, despite the fact that he can't actually emote. "There will be killing soon, right, master?" he says, in a hint-hint sort of way. "Killing, and maybe some torture?"

"Yes to the killing. Perhaps to the torture. If we find Hux, you can absolutely help me do both of those things to him," Kylo agrees. "And also, possibly, Danika. But no torturing troopers unless we really need to, because most of them don't really believe in what they're fighting for."

"Thank you," Finn says, softly. 

Rey grips his hand. She doesn't look all that happy about the idea of _any_ torture, full-stop, although she _is_ the one who got the truth about the New Rebellion from several of its members, so… it's certainly a grey area.

No pun intended.

"It would help if we could find the Eye of Chikara before the First Order does," she says, changing the subject a little. "The last thing we want is them having the missing piece for their new ship… because you can bet it's designed to use the Eye as a weapon."

"But the Eye was taken from Midwanjontû," HK-47 points out. "It could be anywhere, and the line of clues that led there goes no further." A pause, and a mechanical sigh. "I just _wish_ I had taken a shot at that little green troll when I had the chance…"

"…what did you just say?" Kylo asks, whirling towards the droid. 

HK-47 stares at him. "The little green troll," he re-iterates, and then realises. "Ah, I haven't told you this part yet. I didn't tell the Knights of Ren. They were _unnecessarily_ rude to me. A bit of master-droid cruelty is perfectly reasonable but they were excessive and I didn't feel like being forthcoming."

An unashamed beat, and then, "Explanatory: I told you I was in low-power mode on Midwanjontû, in the crystal chamber, with the Eye of Chikara, waiting for someone worthy to show up and claim it. I had set myself to awaken if there was sound and movement in the chamber and, one day, something triggered me from my slumber. I regained full awareness in time to realise that a single meatbag had indeed arrived, and was standing before the Eye. And there was a moment, one single moment, when I could have taken a shot at said meatbag, but I hesitated. I hoped the one in question was Sith, and that they were the new master I was waiting for. The worthy successor to Revan. Only… I was mistaken. I made my move and revealed my intentions, but the _Jedi_ initiated combat and – in seconds – I had been incapacitated."

A beat. "Bitter statement: _That_ meatbag was – in retrospect – **certainly** too small to be a Sith Lord. It was a Jedi. A little green Jedi master, like the one that sat on the Jedi Council in Revan's day, but… _greener_."

" **Yoda** ," Kylo growls, in absolute annoyance. "Of course it would be him. He's known where the crystal is, all this time, and--"

He starts, sitting bolt upright, eyes going wide with understanding.

"What?" Finn asks.

"It's on Dagobah. That's where the Eye is… Dagobah. We have to get to the _Phoenix_ right **now**." 

"You know this miniature meatbag?" HK-47 says.

"He's dead now, but yes," Rey answers, looking stunned. "Master Yoda was the leader of the Jedi Council for a very long time. He died in the latter days of the Rebellion, after having spent his final years in exile, hiding on Dagobah… It must be there. It must be. Kylo's right, we have to go. Finn, can we bring the Pathfinders with us? In case the First Order somehow manage to find out and track us there?"

"I'll get them. Can you tell the Admirals and Han where we're going?" he asks Rey.

"I'll get our grab-bags," Kylo offers. "We can't wait any longer. We _have_ to get the Eye."

It's… it's there. In reach. They know where it is. And the little bastard has known all along, and hasn't chosen to share that information with them? Kylo is gripped by another wave of anger towards the Jedi, and…

Later. He can growl later. Victory, first. 

"I'm on it," Rey agrees. "Although… I think you should speak to Tovim before we go. It might be wise to take him with us. If we run into the remaining Knights of Ren, we'll need all the help we can get."

Tovim. Tovim Ren. Right. Somehow, Kylo has managed to pretend to himself that the other Force-sensitive had never existed, but… he's going to need him, and without Poe around to grate against him… "You're right."

Kylo does not want to, but they need all the help they can get, don't they?

HK-47 seems to perk up at this. "Inquisitive: The one who defected, master? If you need some help coercing him further, you need only say the word."

"I'm pretty sure he'll co-operate, but if you want to come along to look menacing, you can," Kylo offers. "He's probably desperate to get out of his house arrest anyway."

"I am very good at menacing," HK-47 remarks. "I have no doubt I can help you keep him in line."

"We'll meet you at the ship," Rey tells them, and then she and Finn head off to make preparations, leaving Kylo and HK to head off in the direction of where Tovim has been re-housed following the move to this planet.

Kylo wonders if this is wise. HK is not exactly a kind and soft soul, and Tovim is… Tovim. It's possible letting the two even meet might destroy the very world as he knows it.

But… desperate times, desperate measures.

Tovim opens the door with a big smile. "Kylo! What brings you here? And you brought a friend?"

"Tovim, this is HK-47."

If the droid could smile, you can bet he would be doing the same right now. "Hello, meatbag," he says, calmly. "You have two options. You will come with us willingly, or you will come with us without your kneecaps."

"…is this a joke?" Tovim asks, head to one side. "Kylo… I know Poe doesn't like me very much, but seriously?"

The Sith puts a hand on HK's shoulder. "He's just antsy for some action, Tovim. Which is why we're here."

"Oh, well, if your husband won't object…"

Kylo nods to HK's side-arm.

Tovim's hands go up at once, and he takes a half-step back. "Joking! Joking!"

HK-47 points the blaster squarely at Tovim without a fraction of hesitation, audibly clicking the safety off. "Sarcastic remark: And we are all deeply amused," he says, tone dry. "Now cease your merriment and do as your master instructs."

"…where did you get this guy? Because I want one."

Kylo takes a very, very, very deep breath. "You can't have one, Tovim. The Order have Poe, and I know where the Eye is. Are you going to help us?"

"You do remember the part where I actually defected, right? Wasn't just me there?"

"If you defected, you should do as you are told," HK-47 points out, and then angles the blaster down at Tovim's knees. "Inquisitive: Which kneecap do you prefer? Because I'm shooting that one first."

"HK… he's going to come with us," Kylo says, with only minor exasperation in his tone.

"Yes, definitely. And I really want one. Even if I'm a little scared of – and turned on by – him." Tovim's brows arch in open appreciation. 

"Stop hitting on my droid. And me. And my… in fact, can we just make it a rule that you don't hit on anyone?"

"That's hardly fair. Anyway. Where are we going?"

Kylo thinks for a moment, but if he's going to come, he has to know. "Dagobah."

"Dagobah? The hell is that?"

"Because the small green Jedi troll apparently lived there and it appears he is the one who removed the Eye of Chikara from Midwanjontû," HK-47 explains, succinctly. "Unfortunately said small green Jedi troll is reportedly dead, otherwise I would relish the opportunity to kill him myself."

"What?"

"He means Jedi Master Yoda," Kylo explains. "He survived the Empire's mass culling, and went on to train my uncle. And also, apparently, hid the Eye."

"…and nobody thought to check there?"

"It's a Dark Side artefact, and he was a Jedi." Why would he think to look there? Kylo takes a very, very steadying breath. "So, are you going to help me, or not?"

"I don't think 'or not' is an option right now, do you?"

"Jovial: A wise decision," HK-47 declares. "I hope you and your kneecaps will be very happy together."

"Seriously, is this the Resistance's new units you're road-testing?"

"He was Revan's. He's older than the Republic."

"Wait… seriously?"

"Oh yes," the droid answers, easily. "According to current chronometers, I am slightly over four thousand years old. Impressive, is it not?"

Tovim steps in closer, and peers at the unit. His eyes narrow, and he looks him over from head to toe. "No memory wipes?"

The blaster comes straight up between them, pressing squarely into Tovim's gut. "None that stuck," HK-47 says, a little more curtly.

"HK," Kylo says, warningly. "He's just curious." 

"Placatory: Of course, master," HK replies, levelly. "And I would not _actually_ shoot him without your say-so. Unless I had no other choice."

This is clearly a sketchy truth at best.

"Get your things packed, Tovim. And report to the _Phoenix_ in twenty minutes."

"Aye, aye, Sir," the other Knight replies, saluting sloppily. "With both of my kneecaps." 

***

Their preparations to leave don't take long. With the Admirals' approval – in the still-unconscious Leia's stead – the _Phoenix_ and the _Scion_ are soon warming-up on their landing pads, surrounded by a little hub of activity. The Pathfinders are quickly prepped and ready to go, with Finn at the helm, and all that's left is for the passengers of the _Phoenix_ to embark.

Said passengers are Kylo and Tovim, along with Rey (to keep the peace) and HK-47 (to break the peace). Precisely who is going to be doing the actual flying is still – no pun intended – up in the air, although they do at least have plenty of choice.

Although, when the four of them make it to the _Phoenix_ , they find someone else already waiting, leaning on the wing and looking remarkably calm about the whole affair. The person in question is Snap Wexley, dressed in civilian attire for once (and lending credence to the theory that all of the pilots only ever wear orange or varying shades of brown) and he smiles as he sees them.

"So, I did some thinking, and I decided I'm coming too," he declares.

"…based on… what?" Kylo asks, looking exasperated, but not all that surprised. "You do know what we're going up against, right?"

"Oh, is that one my pil--"

Kylo uses the Force to crack Tovim around the head. 

"Based on the fact that you need all the help you can get," Snap answers, looking at Tovim in surprise when he jumps like he's been hit. "Also because I'm going to go crazy if I have to sit on this barren rock for much longer."

There's a third reason hiding behind his eyes, but he doesn't say it out loud. It's there, though, if you know how to look.

Kylo sees it, and appreciates it. Poe means something to all of them, and Snap is no exception. They aren't going to find him right now, but this is the first strike they've planned since they lost him.

And everyone needs it. Everyone needs a win right now. "All right. But I think you're going to need to flip for who flies."

You lose one pilot, and you get four trying to all volunteer over the other. Honestly.

Rey holds up her hands. "I'm content with being a passenger this time," she says, in what can only be described as Sensible Adult Voice (which is in turn impressive and telling considering she's the youngest by some margin).

"Perfect," Snap says, and clearly Rey is the only one he would have deferred to. "Me, then."

HK-47 gives a mechanical sigh. "I have better things to do. Like keeping an eye on the argumentative one." He looks over at Tovim with a decidedly menacing edge.

"Kylo, is there any chance you could press the Friendly Button on your can opener?" Tovim asks, his hand tapping at his lightsabre hilt.

"Everybody get on the ship, and nobody murder anybody else – not even a little bit – because we need to murder the _enemy_." Why don't they understand that? Kylo puts a hand on Tovim's back, pushing him away from everyone else and up towards the ship.

"This _is_ me being friendly," HK-47 remarks, sotto-voce, as they all head up the boarding ramp.

Looks like this might be an interesting trip.

***

Mercifully, the journey to Dagobah is not an especially long one.

The now-five passengers sit in the cockpit of the _Phoenix_ ; Snap at the controls, with Rey sitting calmly in the co-pilot's seat. HK-47 seems content to do some casual looming, mostly near Tovim, though sometimes he wanders closer to Snap, obviously not yet sure what to make of him.

After a while, Rey turns to Kylo. "How do you want to play this?" she asks.

"I want to destroy it," Kylo replies. "Although… if we can use it, just once, to find where Danika has Poe?"

It's a thing of the Dark, and he knows he can't bend it to his own will indefinitely. For all he's not happy with the Jedi, he can see on one level why Yoda would hide it away, here. If Sidious had found it, then he – and Obi-Wan, and both Luke and Leia – would have been destroyed.

"I think we have to take that risk. Just once."

Rey nods. "I think you're right. We can't pass up the opportunity to find him, and no doubt he will be where the remaining Knights of Ren are. But, after we have a location… it needs to be destroyed."

" _Destroyed_?!" HK-47 repeats in alarm. "I spent four _thousand_ years guarding that thing and you want to _destroy_ it?!"

"You found it, and look what happened: a Jedi stole it," Kylo points out in as even a voice as he can. "We don't need it. We don't need it to find new Force-sensitives, and we definitely don't want it to ever fall into the wrong hands again." 

"…if we can't have it, no one can," Tovim sing-songs.

The droid appears to consider this for a moment. Or, to consider Kylo's words, at least. Tovim's merely draw a sideways glance which warrants eyes to narrow. "Concession: I _suppose_ that is true. There is also the part where my first master eventually declared that she no longer wanted it either. I wish you Force-sensitive meatbags could make your minds up about things."

"I'm still amazed that you're four thousand years old," Snap cuts across, glancing at HK with what can best be considered academic interest. "Can I take a look at you sometime?"

"No."

"Huh. Even if I told you I built a battle droid when I was fifteen?"

HK turns his attention to the pilot. "No," he repeats.

"…Please?"

"No!"

"Snap, please try not to upset the murder droid," Kylo mutters, shaking his head. "We need you alive, too."

"I still want one-- hey, stop hitting me!" Tovim scowls.

"Don't think I won't tell the General about all this."

"Running to your m--"

Kylo snaps his fingers, and Tovim makes a muffled noise as he tries to talk past closed lips. 

This makes the pilot look back at them, a mixture of confusion and suspicion on his face. "There something going on I should know about?" he asks, in the tone of a man who has _every_ reason to be suspicious of Tovim.

"No," Kylo replies, a little rapidly. "Tovim hasn't been socialising much. He's forgotten basic manners. That's all."

The Knight snorts, and folds his arms indignantly.

"And HK just wants to kill someone. Although, as he already killed a Knight, I'm not sure why waiting is a problem," the Sith continues.

"There are _always_ more people in need of killing," HK enthuses. "At your command, master, of course."

Snap flashes a grin at Kylo. "Interesting bunch you got here."

"Tell me about it." 

He turns to Tovim, making eye-contact. "Are you ready to behave civilly?"

Tovim nods. Kylo breaks the control over his mouth, and turns, then, to Rey. 

"So, tell me Finn's plan again?"

"He and the Pathfinders will follow us down," she answers. "They'll create a perimeter, but they'll wait for instructions before doing anything else." A beat. "Unless the First Order happens to be waiting for us there, in which case they'll engage. They're ready for anything."

"You think the First Order _will_ be waiting for us there?" Snap asks.

"We have no direct evidence that they know the Eye is on Dagobah," Rey replies. "But… that does not mean they haven't found out."

"We should hopefully know when we get there, although the interference from the Eye might block our Force abilities to sense them, somewhat," Kylo muses. "We'll still have normal scanners."

"…there's only three of them, now. And there's three of us. So we're even!" Tovim says, with a little bounce in his seat.

"Doesn't it bother you that two of your former allies are dead?" Rey asks, looking at Tovim, obviously taken aback by his attitude.

"Why? They were assholes. Did you ever _meet_ them?" He sounds confused why she would even ask that.

"Only briefly, and I'll concede it didn't go well," Rey answers. "But… you lived with them for years. You must feel… _something_."

"Hunger?" Tovim shakes his head. "Nope. We pretty much all knew if it came to it, we'd be thrown under a speederbike by one another. Didn't really make much for… you know. Camaraderie."

Kylo winces. "I would have tried to save you all."

"Yeah, but you were always weird. No offence."

"And now… what?" Rey pushes, still not looking away from Tovim. "What do you actually want? You certainly didn't come to us for any kind of moral reason."

"I'd like to continue to live at the end of all of this. I don't care, Light or Dark. I just want to walk away." He's very open about that, and there's no hint of artifice in his tone.

"And if we let you… what's to stop you going back to the old ways?" Kylo asks.

"The fact that you'd both whup my ass the minute you find me isn't enough?"

"You really just want to walk away when all this is over?" Rey asks. "You don't want to help us build this new order? To be part of something _better_?"

"What would be in it for me?"

Kylo glances across at Rey, trying to inaudibly remind her not to get disappointed. He's known Tovim for years, after all, and he knows precisely what the man is capable of. 

"…Being part of something better," Rey replies, a little pointedly. It's obvious she knows she's unlikely to get anywhere with the man, but something makes her keep trying. "A sense of belonging. _Camaraderie_. All of those things you've been denied up 'til now."

"I've managed okay so far. And – well – you guys will probably end up someone else's enemy before long. So I'd be safer like this. No offence. I'm not wired up with the Altruism switch…"

There's a sadness in Rey's eyes at this, and she shakes her head. "You don't realise what you're giving up," she says. "But… I guess it's yours to give up, one way or another."

"Actually, I think I do. I think I'm just not… you know. _Like_ you. I don't get a kick out of this. I'd rather be off in a cantina, if it's all the same…"

"You'd probably have been happier without the Force," Kylo says, sadly.

"But likely more dead from getting into trouble."

"Then why did you stay with the Knights of Ren for so long?" Rey now asks. "If you really don't believe in any of this, if you'd be happier on your own… why stay?"

"Why did Kylo stay?" Tovim asks, turning to him. "You want to tell her, or should I?"

"Leaving was not a viable option," Kylo says, bitterly. "Not… before."

"I realise that," Rey answers, quickly. "I know that Snoke… I know it wasn't possible." The less said about that part, the better. "But after. When he was gone. When you were free to make up your own mind."

"…still not all that easy. You do know there were five of them, right? And plus… if I came over to you guys… well. You _did_ punch me – repeatedly – and put me under house arrest."

"You deserved most of that," Kylo points out. 

Rey shakes her head, sadly. "I just think you're giving up on something good," she says. "But it's your choice to make. Or… it will be, when this is over."

"Yeah. Maybe I'll help out when you guys _really_ need it, but… teaching? You wouldn't want me teaching."

Kylo really wouldn't. He can actually imagine it right now, and he wishes he hadn't, because… "You just stay on call, okay?"

"Gotcha, boss."

Before anyone can say anything else, there's beeping from the central console, and Snap turns back to it. "We're making our final approach," he says, working the controls. "Everybody hold tight…"

Up front, the blur of blue and white suddenly jumps back into focus, resolving into a glittering starscape with a deep-green planet at its heart.

Dagobah.

As soon as they drop out of hyperspace, Kylo can tell something is inherently wrong. Wrong. It feels… empty. There's echoes of something, like the eddies behind a ship, clouds churned and fading back to normal.

A gap. An emptiness. Something that had been there, and no longer is. He turns to Rey and Tovim, wanting their opinions.

"Sorry, boss," Tovim says with a shrug. 

"It's gone," Rey breathes, her eyes filling with realisation and horror. "It was here… I know it was here, and now… Could the Knights of Ren have found it before us? Could they have been here, and..?"

She trails off, staring at the planet out the front window; all their hopes suddenly turning hollow.

"I'm not picking up any other ships in orbit," Snap says, checking the scope. "If the First Order was here, they've gone."

"But how would they – " Kylo pauses, trying to think it through. How would Danika find it, when they hadn't? When HK-47 had never told them about Yoda? "How would they know to come here?"

"Beats me. But unless Yoda took to moving it around… figure he'd want to keep it close?" Tovim wonders. "I mean, did he go anywhere else?"

"No, he died here, in front of my uncle. It would make sense that he brought it here to keep it shielded, but not for him to move it."

"Guess we gotta go see if there's any clues, then." The Knight cracks his knuckles. "Just like old times."

"I'll bring us in to the planned landing co-ordinates," Snap says. "We can work from there."

The _Phoenix_ arcs down towards the surface, with the _Scion_ following close behind. The descent isn't an easy one, and the whole ship shakes again and again as they pass through the different cloud layers, Snap fighting to keep their flightpath something close to level.

Soon, the surface beneath them swims into view: a morass of forests and swamps, all interconnected and entwined, as though the planet itself is some vast, terrible living thing. And eventually, they touch down on a reasonably solid patch of ground. There aren't many of those around, and the _Scion_ has to land a little way further out.

"That was bracing," Snap manages. "We're down, though the Pathfinders are gonna have to catch up with us. Not many good landing spots here. Too many trees and swamps."

"Please make sure you don't sink," Kylo requests. "Luke was very… vivid when he told us about this place. And R2 was even more so."

"I've heard the stories," Rey says. "He doesn't remember this world fondly."

"Understandable," HK-47 chips in. "Swamp planets are the _worst_. Do you know how difficult it is to get slime out of your servos?"

"Probably harder if you don't have arms," Snap points out, which makes the droid stare at him, in what is no doubt meant to be a glower.

"Perhaps. Would you like to find out, meatbag?"

"He was talking about the astromech," Kylo says, trying once more to keep the peace. "Not threatening you. You… did have astromech droids back when you were created, didn't you?"

"Oh yes," HK-47 remarks. "Many of them, bleeping away all the time, incessant and _cheery_."

"You're a difficult guy to like, you know that?" Snap adds, with a grin, as they head down the ramp and out into the warm, humid air.

HK-47 pauses a moment. "Yes," he replies, flatly.

"If we weren't about to do what we're about to do, I might find this amusing." But as they are, and they're here, Kylo can't, quite.

They set out, moving carefully across the forest floor, heading away from the ship. The planet itself is a mangled soup of green and brown, the air as sticky and pungent as the swamp below. It's almost impossible to tell where the horizon actually starts, and the Sith is convinced he's actually walking through the land and breathing it, too. Suddenly, R2's diatribes start to make more sense.

This place does _not_ feel like it's made of the Light. It could be the long-gone crystal, or it could just be the muck.

"Homey," he snarks.

"Not as picky, would you be, if hunted to the death, you were," a gruff voice points out.

"Master Yoda?" Kylo starts in shock.


	31. Eye Of The Beholder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, all. It's new chapter day! This week, we resume right where we left off, with the long-planned appearance of Yoda himself. And then you get to see the Eye of Chikara. For real, this time.
> 
> And then? Well, then things start to fall apart...

Everyone in the clearing stares.

Though, they're not all staring at the same thing. Kylo, Rey and Tovim can – obviously – all see the Force-ghost of Yoda that has just appeared through the haze. Snap can't, so is staring at the three Force-users, seemingly in the hope that one of them will explain what's going on, and HK-47 stares wildly into the trees, evidently searching for his tiny green nemesis.

"That's… really him, isn't it?" Rey breathes. "I mean… that's really you?"

"What am I now, not what before was I, hmmm, no," Yoda replies, a little enigmatically. "Before, Yoda, my name. Hmmm. Now? Still may you call me, but One with the Force am I."

"…does the Force not come with elocution lessons?" Tovim asks.

"Master Yoda… what happened?" Kylo asks.

"Where is it?" HK-47 cuts in, before the Force-ghost can speak. "I know you're talking to it. The little green troll. _Where is it?_ Death will not prevent me exacting my revenge!"

"HK, please calm down. Master Yoda died over thirty years ago. We're speaking to his Force-ghost, like we speak to Master Revan," Kylo says. "There is no need for revenge, and no way to take it, even if you could."

"Even now, bring you the trappings of the Sith," Yoda says, sounding… disgusted. "Always for power do they look. And here, to my home, bring you discord and strife, hmmm. Help you, I should not."

"And instead… let our enemies succeed? Master… I know you have every reason to doubt the Sith, but if you insist on persecuting people for daring to _feel_ , you lose all those of us who want to feel and still do good!"

"No good from the Dark Side comes, young Skywalker."

"My name is Organa-Solo," Kylo says, curtly.

"No wonder you went evil," Tovim mutters, half under his breath. 

"You haven't helped us so far," Rey cuts across, eyes fixed unblinkingly on Yoda, and there's a heat in her tone as she speaks. "We're trying to prevent the Eye of Chikara falling into the hands of the _real_ enemy, and you never once thought to appear to us and tell us it was here. We could have found it weeks ago. We could have got it away from them. And now… now it's gone, which means they have it."

The flicker of the man looks troubled, holding his cane closer to himself, resting his weight upon it. Large eyelids droop over his eyes, his long ears tilting towards the swampland below. "Regretful, am I, that those others found the Eye. Very dangerous, is it. But to you, should I give it? When you – in you – was one who would use it for what I fought to protect from it?"

"We would still be safer than Danika and Daria and Hux," Kylo snaps, trying so very hard to rein himself in. "You can't let your damn prejudice destroy the galaxy _again_. Haven't you learned anything?"

"From the pilot, did I need to save. But also from the Master… the Sith, to whom such power would call."

"Are you ever going to listen? Haven't you seen _anything_ I've done? Or been through?" Kylo steps closer, anger in his shoulders down to his fists. "I want. To do. **Good**." 

"And we _are_ doing good," Rey adds. "We're fighting for the Resistance. We took down Snoke, who was a _true_ monster. We're trying to learn from the past and build a better future for Force-users in the galaxy. Why is that so _bad_?"

"Evil, the Eye is. Evil, through to the very core. No good from it can come," Yoda says, looking up again. "Worried, was I, that to the Dark it would tempt you once more."

"I know the Dark, and it is not all that you think of it," Kylo says, trying not to lose his temper in his tone. "We all agree it must be destroyed. And now?"

"In the hands of the First Order, is it."

"…and we're pretty much fucked. Because of Jedi rules and prejudice." Kylo sounds disgusted again, and he turns away from the ghost.

"…even I know that was a dick move, no offence, old dude," Tovim says. "Can you use your one-ness to just… blow it up for us?"

"Wish it were so easy, do I."

"Then what _can_ we do?" Rey implores. "This was our last hope. And now, the First Order has the Eye, and we don't know where they've taken it. We don't know where this new ship of theirs is, but we can't just sit back and wait for them to attack us with it. I… Why did you even bring it here? Why didn't you destroy it on Midwanjontû?"

"Too difficult. No help did I have. If failed I had, then no one to keep it from the hands of the Sith. Calculated risk, it was."

"…and now? Can you tell us where it is?" Kylo pleads.

Yoda gives a shake of his blue-green head. "Too distant, and many, are the spaces between the stars. To find, impossible. But… a message, will you receive. Trust it, you must."

"So. We go home and wait for a call?" Kylo doesn't like that at all. "You're just trying to get rid of us, aren't you?"

"Avoid you, could I have chosen. Speak with you, did I instead."

"Then you must see the good in what we're doing," Rey says. There's a strange sadness in her voice, as if she's caught between anger at the current situation, and a need for approval from one of the most powerful Jedi who ever lived.

"Good, yes, but… such potential for other things, did I also see. Many have felt the call of the Dark. Fallen, fallen and such loss have I witnessed."

"I am not like Anakin," Kylo tries, gently. "I have faced the Dark, and I have faced Evil, and I know the two are not the same."

"Perhaps. But risky, was it. No choice now, do I have. Our only hope, are you. Both of you."

Maybe he should have realised that sooner, Kylo thinks, bitterly.

"So, you even know anything else to help us? Any tips or tricks?" Tovim asks.

"Trust this one, do I not," Yoda says curtly. "For himself only, does he think."

"Never claimed otherwise, little guy."

Yoda shakes his head. "Of no more guidance can I be. Go, you must. Destroy, if you can. What I could not, must you finish."

"But how?" Rey asks. "How do we even destroy this thing, if we manage to find it?"

"Use the Force, you must. But care must you take, for resist you, it will. And should succeed at this you find… much danger in the task. Destroy you, it will try."

"This gets better and better," Tovim says, bouncing on his heels.

"Then I guess this is when we leave," Kylo says, turning slightly to the assembled non-sensitives. "The crystal isn't here, and nothing else of use is." 

"You're sure?" Snap asks, looking somewhat bewildered by the half-conversation he's just listened to. "We can do a sweep of the area, if you want. Check for anything the First Order may have left behind."

"There won't be anything," Rey says, her own tone still a little bitter. "We need to go, and work out what we do next."

"The Light side, must you remember," the ghost of the Jedi exhorts them. "Not to the Dark must you succumb."

And he's gone. Even now, espousing his old, ridiculous lines. Kylo wants to scream and throw things, but he also doesn't want to spook everyone. "Back to base," he snaps, and tries to keep his expression level. 

"You heard the man!" Tovim bounces, more cheerily. "Let's roll."

Snap gets on the radio, telling the Pathfinders – who are still en route to join them – to withdraw, though he doesn't say much about why. Just that "what we came for isn't here".

Which is something of an understatement.

They make their way back to the ship. It isn't far, but any kind of movement is difficult given the terrain, and the need to avoid falling into any swamps. Of which there are more than seems reasonable.

Finn is already waiting for them. "I told the guys to board… what happened?"

"It's gone. Danika got here first. Yoda decided to tell us after the event… you know. Because I'm as bad as she is." Kylo's tone drips with self-loathing, mingled with outright hostility. 

"Lovely little guy. Real friendly." Tovim saunters on. "Beginning to see why the Emperor wanted them all dead." 

"We've had better days," Rey manages, and then she holds out a hand to Finn. "Come back in the _Phoenix_? I'm sure the others will behave themselves whilst you're away."

"I could keep an eye on them," HK points out, with an edge to his tone that suggests 'eye' is synonymous with 'blaster'.

"No," Rey answers at once. "You come with us too."

"I need you to keep an eye on Tovim," Kylo reminds him.

"No one needs to eye me, except maybe the handsome pilot," Tovim croons. "Is he taken?"

"Yes," Kylo snaps.

"Pity."

"Plus I don't swing your way," Snap points out, and then he grins. "And my girlfriend is scarier than you are, so watch yourself."

"Hey, I got two hands," Tovim reminds him. "And I don't need to be in the middle."

"Tovim?"

"Yes, Kylo?"

"Would you like to travel strapped to the hull in an EVA suit?"

"No, Kylo?"

"Then shut up before I lose my patience."

"Aww… okay."

Finn follows the group into the cockpit, and stands close to Rey, who takes the co-pilot's seat. "So you know where the Eye is now?"

"We know Danika has it, and intends to fit it on their new ship," Kylo answers. "And not much more." 

"How did she even find it?" Rey wonders aloud. "We only found it because of HK, and he never told her."

"Not a word," HK confirms.

"I have no idea. It's possible the Eye reached out to her? Or…" No, he has no other ideas. "I'm at a loss, and Yoda didn't seem to know, either."

"Where to?" Snap asks, as he powers the ship up again. "Back to Hinansho?"

"Yes," Rey agrees. "And then we have to work out what to do next. Although…"

She trails off, looking down. Because, what _do_ they do next?

"What?" Finn asks, staring at her. "You got an idea?"

"I wish I did," the young woman admits. "I wish I had something we could use. Anything."

At the rear of the ship, the landing ramp thunks shut, and the thrum of the engines starts to ring through the air.

"Here we go," Snap says, and hits the radio. " _Scion_ , this is _Phoenix_. Lifting off now. Rendezvous in orbit and set co-ordinates for the base."

"Copy, _Phoenix_ ," comes the reply from the Pathfinders' ship.

"What… was he like?" Finn asks. "Master Yoda?"

"Like he ever was, I suspect," Kylo replies. "Obstructive, dogmatic, and enigmatic. Traditional Jedi fayre." 

"A bit short to be a Jedi."

"Tovim, that's racist," Kylo points out. 

"…well, I've only met Human Force-sensitives."

"Because everyone else was brutally slaughtered."

"Oh. Point." 

The ship races skywards, rocking somewhat as it passes through the different cloud layers, and levelling off once they break atmosphere.

"Can't say I'll miss this place," Snap remarks. "Going to lightspeed…"

And, in a burst of blue-white, the _Phoenix_ streaks to hyperspace, leaving Dagobah – perhaps mercifully – far behind.

***

Danika is happy. Danika is beyond happy. Danika is the kind of happy that makes you want to bounce when you walk, and burst into song. (She does neither.)

They got it. All this time, and they got it. It just goes to show what the power of the Dark Side can accomplish, and that is to say: everything it damn well pleases. They have the Eye, and it's aboard the _Successor_ , and all that remains now is to deal with the ginger monster and she's got everything she ever wanted.

Danika is having a _fabulous_ day.

She waits outside the installation chamber, wanting to show her sister before she shows the other Knight. Daria and she will always be bound tighter than they could be with others, it's just… a fact.

It isn't long before Daria appears, her stride level and measured. The two of them haven't seen so much of each other in the last few days – since Danika and a team of First Order lackeys brought the Eye back from Dagobah – and this will be the first time Daria has seen the thing they've spent so long searching for.

"This ship is unnecessarily large," the younger twin remarks, as she approaches. "It feels like over-compensation to me."

A pause, and a nod to the door. "So this is where it is."

"It has to be, to fit the crystal and the oscillator, and the… rest of the science stuff I tune out," Danika says. She's wearing her mask as they're in public, but there's actually no one around right now. 

"Are you ready to see it? Properly, I mean?" The answer, she hopes, is 'oh hell yes'.

"I am," Daria answers. "This moment has been too long coming."

There's a flicker of hesitation in her tone, but perhaps it's just apprehension. A realisation of what they've achieved, of what she's about to see.

Danika doesn't seem to notice, too swept up in her glee. She opens the door with a flourish, and the long, pointed Eye hangs like a tilted spear above them, in the centre of the vast room. Set within rings of metal, pointing at an aperture, the crystal glints deep, bloody red from within.

The older twin stares, love-struck, up at it. "Isn't she the most beautiful thing you ever saw?"

"It's… bigger than I expected," Daria manages, after a moment. "And it feels… I mean, the echoes in the Force… they're so… _intense_. I've been able to sense it since you brought it back, but here, looking at it…"

"I know. It's everyone, isn't it? The other Force-users. You can feel them inside of her…" Danika steps closer, putting a gloved hand on one flat plane. "It's all those voices, those souls. She can see them all." 

Daria doesn't move in alongside her sister – closer to the Eye – and stays where she is. "I guess it must be," she answers. "All that power, all those people, unknowingly coursing back here, to this."

A pause, a moment of contemplation. And then, "Have you tried to use it yet?"

"A little. But it was… it was intense. I didn't know how to focus, where to look. It was so… intense inside. Like a sky above an uninhabited, cloudless world at night… will you help me?" Danika asks. 

"…Is that wise?" Daria replies, and that flicker of hesitation is back. "I mean… am I strong enough to be connected to it?" It's obvious she's not wholly enamoured of the idea.

"Why wouldn't you be?" Danika's hand falls, regretfully, as she turns to her sister. "You are just as strong as I am, and you would help balance me."

"All right," Daria concedes, although she still doesn't sound entirely happy about it. Stepping in closer, she stares up at the Eye, glittering deep red and filling the room with unnatural shadows. "What do I do?"

"We need to know where the person is we find. I need you to stay closer to the galaxy, while I…" How does she explain how it feels to communicate with this power? "I need you to be my navigator." 

Daria nods. "I can try," she answers. "I'm not entirely sure how, but… let's see."

And she holds out a hand. Their Force-bond is strong, but physical contact will amplify it further.

Danika removes her gloves, then takes Daria's hand in her own. The other reaches for the Eye (and she doesn't think to say thank you), reaching out to satisfy that tingling _craving_ that distance puts in. The cold solidity makes electric sing through her, and she closes her eyes to drift within the facets and inclusions.

Deep, deep inside. Between the rainbow-hued flecks, the different strata, the flashes of distant Force-sensitivity. She can feel them span out before her, and her mind scoots through, feeling for… feeling for…

…looking for something bright, but unsure. Unaware. Untrained. _Malleable_. 

Above it all, a blur of stars, like a map overlaid across a strange picture. The layout of this inner galaxy is constantly shifting, re-arranging, as though trying to find a solid layout. Daria's mind moves through it, tugging at strands, trying to get it to sit right. Like trying to lay a cloth over a bumpy table, but vast, and transcendent, and sparking.

And then there's that sense of _other_ ; the target at the core, around which the blurring galaxy shifts and re-forms, as if to the echo of a heartbeat, to…

…such _innocence_ …

Something else flares across the connection, and the swirling galaxy blurs all the more, shifting out of focus.

"No… no! Stay on it," Danika calls out in frustration, dragging the focus back, hard. The little nexus of Force is bright, and she slams her intent towards it, feeling the Darkness swell within her – it – them. 

Young, and untrained. Unaware. Perfect. Perfect and loyal, or it will be. Danika stalks towards it like a Rancor sighting prey: larger, fiercer, and intent.

"Find me where it is."

"I can't," Daria replies. "I…"

Strands of starlight rip through that inner image, though the source they lead back to shifts and changes with every breath, leaving streaks of afterburn and little more.

"…I can't make it resolve…"

Danika yanks on her sister's hand, pulling her in and slapping it onto the Eye. It's so close! So close. She can practically _taste_ the atmosphere around the child, feel the wind, the tug of gravity…

Flashes of colour, of scent, of emotion. She's seeing – albeit poorly – through their eyes. "Help me!" 

Within seconds of making physical contact with the Eye, Daria lets out a scream and struggles to step away, to stop touching it – or her sister. She backs off, staring up at the thing in alarm, visibly shaken.

"I… I don't think it should feel like that. Should it?"

"It's _Dark_ ," Danika reminds her sister, the growl in her voice impossible to deny, or to control. "It's supposed to feel like that. You're just not trying hard enough." 

"I _am_ ," Daria replies, with an edge to her tone that is half fierce and half afraid. "I'm trying as hard as I can. But I've never felt anything like this before and you… you can't expect it to just work first time…"

"The shard did." Danika meditated only briefly on it, and it had spoken to her. "It _wants_ me to use it. Dar… this is what we were always supposed to do. Can't you see? It's the answer to everything, and it's right. There!"

"I know!" Daria insists. "And I'm trying, I really am. I… I'll get better. With practice. I just need time. I can do this. We can do this."

"We need to. You know… you know what Hux is planning, as much as I do. We need to find the children so we can start proving our usefulness." Or just kill him. Either works for her, and she's given up ever understanding the man enough to second-guess his actions and responses.

Daria looks down. "…Do they have to be? Children, I mean. Surely to start off with… surely we'd be better served by recruiting adults?"

"We need all, but we will… we will teach children more easily. They will listen." Plus, it's where it keeps pointing her. Whenever Danika touches it, it's where her mind is pulled. The Force wants this.

And Danika wants it, too. "We discussed this." 

"I know. I do. But…" Daria starts to pace, the agitation obvious in every step. "We have to move against Hux sooner rather than later. We can't do it using children. We need _soldiers_."

"And they could turn on us." Like Tovim. Like… Kylo. "There are less of us, now. If we bring in adults, we run the risk of… of them rebelling against us." 

"And if we bring in children, we run the risk of them not being strong enough to do what has to be done!" Daria throws back, and now she really does sound upset. "If we start with the young ones, it will be a decade or more before we're ready to act against Hux, and he'll find a way to kill us long before then. He isn't stupid, Dani. I hate him as much as you, but I know he isn't stupid."

"Well we take the children and _run_ if we have to! Dar, you _know_ we're vulnerable. We went from eight to three in a year. We can't… we can't just pretend that didn't happen!"

"I'm not," Daria insists, stopping the pacing and staring at her sister. "I'm not. Meryth and Fayed's deaths hurt me just as much as they hurt you. Kylo's betrayal hurt me just as much. But I don't think we fix it this way. And…"

A moment of hesitation, before the younger twin ploughs on. "…And I don't want to lose you like this. I can feel the power in that thing. I can feel what it's doing to you. I just… I just want you to be careful."

"It's Dark! We're Dark! We're the successors – we're _better_ than the Sith. Can't you see? This is what makes everything okay again, this is what lets us win! We win everything. Everyone. Every Force-power in the galaxy. We track them down, and they either obey, or they die." 

Danika's voice hitches up half an octave, her chest feeling tight with anger and worry. "It's calling to me, and I have to listen." 

"Then listen," Daria answers, more softly, visibly backing down. "Just… don't get lost in there."

"You have to help me," Danika pleads. "I can't do this without you. Daria… I need you. Don't you see? I need you." 

"And you have me. You know that. You'll always have me. And we… we'll get better at this. At using the Eye. We'll get better."

But she wants it now. Now. She needs it now. It has to happen, because… the longer they wait, the more risk they are in. Danika needs to make the Eye produce results, or kill the Emperor's Grandson herself. 

One is sounding easier than the other. 

"I just can't… lose," she admits, fearfully. "I can't."

"And you won't," Daria replies. " _We_ won't. It's always been you and me, Dani. It always has been, and it always will be, and we… we have it. The Eye. We have it, and not them. We're winning. We got this far, didn't we?"

"But Hux…" That's the concern. Their enemies are even on 'their' side. It would be easier if they only had the traitor to deal with, but they're surrounded. There's nowhere and nothing truly safe for them. Danika steps away from the crystal (reluctantly), and nods. 

"So long as the traitor and his little band are still in play, Hux needs us," Daria points out. "He doesn't have the Force. He can't compete with them, not really, and he knows it. And _hates_ it. Although, if he – or we – manage to take Kylo down… that will change. For now, we have to concentrate on what we do with the Eye, and let Hux keep his attention on destroying the Resistance."

"We still have the pilot." How had she forgotten? The pilot who lead them right to the Eye in the first place, with his little, secret shard. The pilot who – though attractive enough – she has no idea how he made the traitor fall.

And she's angry. And when she's angry, it's best to do something about it. "We should cripple him some more. Both of them." 

"You're right," Daria answers, although that flicker of hesitation is back. "Kylo will be desperate to come after us. We need him distracted. Otherwise…–"

Before Daria can say anymore, however, the door to the vast room springs open and General Hux comes storming in. And, for a man who has been doing very well of late, he looks decidedly unhappy.

"We have a problem," he snaps, stalking over to them.

"Do we?" Danika asks, unable to keep her antagonism in check, not around him. Not now, anyway. "Or do you?"

"What was it Dameron called you?" Hux says, without further preamble. "A _witless amateur_? Turns out he was right. You got the **wrong planet**. I sent half the fleet to D'Qar, and do you know what they found? An overgrown _ruin_. The Resistance may once have been based there, but they are **long** gone."

Danika slams through the air with a hand, rattling the room, sending everything to shaking. " **What**?"

"You got the _wrong **planet**_ ," Hux repeats, slowly, stressing each word. "You were fooled by a helpless prisoner who _does not have the Force_. And, in case you're not aware, this kind of intel is _time-bound_. The Resistance will no doubt move their base of operations, knowing that Dameron has been captured, which means the likelihood of us finding them is now slim, even if you _do_ somehow manage to get the _right_ name out of the man."

"That's impossible!" Danika explodes, the words spitting wet behind her mask. "I saw it. I saw it in his head. He fought me every step of the way, and…"

Shit. Has Kylo somehow taught him how to resist? Is it even possible to learn? 

Anger finds her sabre in her hand, and she stalks closer to Hux, glaring fit to kill. "I'll get every. Last. Drop. Of. Intel. From. His. Screaming. Fucking. BODY."

"If you would, please," Hux replies, his own voice clipped and ice-cold. "I really don't have all week."

He doesn't. He's thoroughly sick of his life right now, and getting to take out the Resistance after all would ease the pain immeasurably.

"Did you find anything on that planet?" Danika snaps, desperate for some – some! – consolation. This is _not_ making them look indispensable. Not at all. 

"Nothing of use," Hux says. "There were the remnants of an old base, undoubtedly used by the Resistance at some point, but abandoned for a number of months at least. And the facility itself had been completely stripped. Nothing was left but the buildings."

"How many people know?" How far has the shockwave gone? Because this is an utter embarrassment, and she doesn't want it to spread. It will make taking control almost impossible, after all. 

" _Everyone_ knows," is Hux's reply. This is not technically true, but it isn't a significant exaggeration. He did stand up prior to sending half the fleet off and say 'This is the last day of the Resistance' to the assembled masses. And he was clear on where the intel came from, too, which is the only saving grace in all this.

Because said assembled masses know who is at fault.

"Why the fuck?" Danika asks, her voice fraught with horror. No. This isn't… she'll make it right. "Didn't you send recon fliers first?" Because she's not taking the rap for this. It's not on her. It's a collective problem, not a Force problem. 

"No," Hux retorts, shortly. "I did not. Giving the Resistance any warning would have allowed a significant proportion of their numbers to escape, and they _would_ have spotted our recon fliers had we sent any. Attacking with full-force was our best option, or it would have been, had _anyone_ been there _to be_ attacked."

"Did I see you or your men extracting information?" she snaps. "Because I don't recall. I think you just stood there looking pretty. Is that how you win all your battles?"

"I win by trusting in the competence of my underlings," Hux snaps right back, ignoring the rest. "My only mistake was in assuming yours. Clearly you are not half the interrogator Kylo Ren once was. Or did the pilot work his vapid charms on you, too?"

A hand up, and she doesn't touch him, but the _Force_ does. Around his throat, lifting him clean off his feet. "You. Will. Retract. Your. Statement." 

Maybe not wise to threaten him, when he already wants them dead, but she can't let that sanctimonious little shit get away with this!

"Kill me and _everyone_ on this ship will turn against you," Hux chokes out, trying not to let so much as a sliver of fear flare in his mind at being attacked like this. Trying to keep it all as pure, cold _rage_ , even as his hand instinctively goes to his throat, trying to fight the grip. "And you know it."

"Danika, stop this," Daria says, putting a hand on her sister's arm. "We still need him."

"Why? He's not helping us! He's not helping us at all! He doesn't even have the _Force_!" And that makes his power even more frightening, though she won't admit to such aloud. 

"We're here because of him," Daria insists, although the distaste at the words is obvious in her voice. "We would never have found the Eye of Chikara without the First Order's help."

"And now we have it, why do I still need him?" she asks, then turns to him. "Why? Why do I need you?" The pressure lifts just enough to allow him to reply.

"Because you can't even tell when one helpless pilot is lying to you," Hux manages. "And because you want to _win_."

She does. She wants to win. She also wants to choke him out and leave him on the floor. Awareness of how much she's… how close she is to the edge, right now… how she's fucked up _twice_ , and now lost any respect she might have ever hoped to have…

Danika drops him. "I do want to win." 

Hux hits the ground roughly, staggering more than a little and then brushing himself down, as if wanting to get every last trace of her off him. "Then start acting like it," he says, his voice rough, trying to ignore the dizzy sensation at the back of his head. "Go back in that room and get the truth out of Dameron. Or admit that you can't, and I'll show you how it's done."

"I'll show you how it's done," she insists, her lips curling away from her teeth below the mask. " _You_ were the one holding me back," she reminds him.

And Danika storms out, not looking back at the other two. 

"That sister of yours ought to watch herself," Hux says, idly, to Daria. "Otherwise the Knights of Ren will find themselves in need of another new leader."

And, without waiting for a reply, he stalks off as well – making sure to head in the opposite direction to Danika – leaving Daria Ren alone in the light of the Eye.


	32. Message Received

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday, folks! It's new chapter day, and we have a feeling some of you might enjoy this one. ;-)
> 
> Warnings for some graphic violence. And some graphic incoming plot...

Poe has been alone for days.

Well. Mostly alone. He sees Stormtroopers now and then, but only ever for routine things like bringing him food (which is itself a crime against all sentient life). There are always a minimum of two of them – sometimes more – and none of them will engage him in any kind of conversation, despite his attempts to provoke it. For the most part, it gets him nothing more than terse instructions to be quiet.

Although, on one evening, it gets him hit quite a few times, before a more senior trooper intervenes.

He knows he isn't on the _Finalizer_ anymore; knows he's been taken to another ship called the _Successor_ , and he's confident this represents very bad news indeed. Even by current standards.

What worries him more is that he's seen no sign of Danika Ren or General Hux since that first time, and he knows full-well the consequences of his unplanned deception haven't hit yet. And when they do…

…he tries not to think about it. He's confident that his inevitable second round with Danika will be worse than the first.

And the first was hell.

And… don't think about it.

The cell door thunks open suddenly, and Poe knows at once that this is it. That whatever shreds of his luck remained have just run out. There are four troopers on the other side of the door, and they drag him through at once, taking him along corridors more reminiscent of the _Decimator_ than the _Finalizer_ (which is **not** helpful).

The room they end up in, however, is more than familiar enough. He's strapped roughly to the central chair and then left alone, with nothing but thought and memory for company.

And anticipation. Anticipation of what's coming.

Danika enters fast, and the doors pull back and out of her way almost as if afraid of her. If a ship _could_ feel fear, that's exactly the emotion it would feel right now. With reason.

The doors open, her form silhouetted as it stalks closer, and she slams Poe back into the chair at full force before she even crosses the threshold.

"Do you think it's funny?" 

"Fucking hilarious," Poe chokes out. He's braced for the Force-push the second he first hears the door start to open, but you can only prepare for these things so much, and it still hurts. "I was so sure you'd be as good at this as Kylo is. Turns out I needn't have worried."

There's truth in his words: he _did_ think Danika would be closer to Kylo's level of skill than she is. But he's still very much worried.

Sometimes a blunt instrument can be infinitely more damaging than a sharp one.

"I don't fuck my way to answers," she snaps, her voice a growl through the helmet. She shunts straight into his head without another thought, yanking at the images he throws up and forcing him to remember the pain he's in.

Even if they have to keep him breathing, there is no saying that his mind has to be intact beyond the information they want, after all. 

Poe does not want to scream in pain. He doesn't. He knows Danika will enjoy it, and every ounce of satisfaction he can deny her, he'll take. But he can only resist for so long, and eventually he cries out, jamming his eyes shut, trying to detach himself from the moment – like they're taught to – and failing rather significantly.

The moment steadfastly refuses to let him go.

"So far you haven't gotten any answers at all," he manages. "I'm surprised General Hux didn't airlock you for that level of incompetence."

"Would you like me to do that to you?" Danika asks, and cuts his throat completely off from the outside world. "Pull the air out of your body, let you feel your brain shut down from it? Step by step? Moment by moment?"

Poe can't answer out loud, not when Danika is doing that to him, and instead he tries to fight down the panic at not being able to breathe. And yes, he happens to like it when _Kylo_ does that to him, but luckily his brain – and his body – are able to tell the difference.

He could do without the connotations, though. He has other things to worry about. Like, not dying. Although, if he can push Danika into incapacitating him through heavy-handedness, it will go a long way towards buying him more time.

Not that he knows what he can _do_ with said time if he has it.

Once his body is in enough panic, she thuds a question through his mind. Over and over, the words on a permanent loop of ever-increasing sharpness.

_Where are the Resistance hiding? Where is their base? Where? Where? Where?_

She needs a win. Needs it so badly. She has a crystal she can't control, a sister on edge, and… Hux. Everything is threatening to come apart at the seams. **Where**?

Poe's world is going hazy, inside and out, and if it was solely up to him, he'd let the damned Darksider push him completely unconscious. Or worse. It isn't that he wants to die. It's just… it would stop her getting anything out of him. It would save him from this hell.

Plus, if he _does_ ever see Kylo again, he doesn't even know what he's going to say.

The thought comes out of nowhere, a bright flare of mental pain, and with it a flicker of memory: of the base, of home, all lost – one way or another – because of him.

He can't speak. He can't breathe. So, when the word slips out; when the tug of the Force becomes too much, it's a scream inside his mind, sharp and agonised.

_**Tahanan**_.

Victory thrills through her, but she can't let it end there. He's lied before, and she can't risk another loss of face. "Really? That's where I'll find your traitorous, treacherous scum?" Danika snaps.

She lets the Force go from his throat, then leans in to push her mask near his face. "That's where I'll destroy your kind, once and for all?"

"It's where you'll die," Poe chokes out. "You touch Tahanan, and Kylo will kill you there. You, and your non-entity of a sister. You can't defeat him. You're not strong enough."

He's still trying to provoke her, trying to cover over the anguish at his core; the knowledge that he really has given it up this time. All he can do is hope the Resistance has already run, knowing he's compromised them. Knowing they have no choice.

"I'll kill him. Your traitor. I'll kill him, and he'll die knowing the pain he felt in you was at my hands. He'll know he couldn't save you, and he'll know it was _you_ who betrayed him, in the end."

She straightens, and then scratches through Poe's mind, finding the guilt and pulling. "I wonder if he'll cry? Do you think so? He always used to cry. He pretended he didn't, but we all knew." 

"You mistake emotion for weakness," Poe retorts, albeit softly. "It's a good thing you're not a Sith, because you'd be surprisingly bad at it. And I know he won't shed any tears for you. He would have, once. He wanted to save you. We both did. But now… now he will rain hell down on what's left of your broken little order, and he won't think twice."

It's the only hope Poe has left; that the anger will push Kylo into doing what has to be done. And that he won't lose himself in the aftermath. Especially if Poe isn't around to…

…OK, don't think that.

"You think I don't feel?" Danika snaps. "I feel. But the difference is, I'm not a pathetic, squalling baby. He was older than us, and he still acts like he's as old as he was when the Leader called on him." She sees that, now: sees that he never grew up, and she – and Daria – did.

"The Sith are nothing. They lost. The Jedi lost. It is the Knights of _Ren_ who history will remember as the victors… do you know what we will do with the gift you gave us?"

Poe glares at her with all the strength he can muster. "Get yourselves killed?" he deadpans.

"I'll take every Force-sensitive in the galaxy. They will either comply, or they will die." She says it so levelly, so utterly convinced in the outcome.

There is no third option. Her way, or becoming 'One' with the Force much more rapidly than they expected.

"You're actually deluded enough to think you can pull this off, aren't you?" Poe says, with a rough little laugh. "You really believe you're strong enough to do it before Kylo sticks a sabre in your front. Or Hux sticks a knife in your back…"

Because it was clear enough when they were both in here that Danika and Hux do _not_ get along, which makes sense. After Snoke's death, they would each have needed the other: Hux doesn't have the Force, and Danika doesn't have an army. But now, the cracks in their alliance are not so much leaking as gushing, and it can't be long before the whole thing goes completely.

"I'm strong enough," Danika says, and then slams into his mind with a memory: the way the Eye feels, inside. The roiling, waving, pulsing Darkness. The echoes of souls, and the promise of their ends.

Their ends, under her control. The small lives, the uncertain flickers, and her surety of what she will do with them. "It brought you to me, so I could find it. You know, don't you?" 

On some level, Poe does know. He's known since he realised he was carrying that crystal shard with him, and he's known since he was brought to this new ship. He may not have the Force, but he's been connected to the Eye since that day on Chikara itself, and – at the very back of his mind – he can still feel flickers of it, like footprints in sand, or smoke lingering in the air.

He knows it's here. Knows they've found it; _they_ , and not Kylo. Not the Resistance. Not the Knights of Eigengrau. But Poe's mind won't fully engage with the thought, not until Danika flat-out says the words.

And he can feel it. The memory. The rage. The _hate_. They burn like fire, all through his core, and he has to concentrate to fight them back down.

"Yes, I know," he says. "I also know what a tiny piece of that thing can do. I don't have to be Force-sensitive to be absolutely _certain_ that you are in _way_ over your head, little girl. And if somehow neither Kylo nor Hux does you in… the Eye will rip you apart, and you'll thank it for the privilege."

"You mistake your own weakness for mine. You don't have what it takes to use the Dark Side. It's why the Force doesn't flow through you as it does through me. You're a _nothing_ , Dameron. You're just a tool the Eye used, and you project your own fallibility onto me."

Because she can see, in his heart, the memories. The thoughts. The deeds and the feelings the Eye brought out in him. He's not Dark, but he has as much murder in him as any 'normal' person does.

Not like her. Not like someone who really understands.

"Did you enjoy it? Feeling power, even when it wasn't your own?"

"No," Poe answers, and this – from a certain point of view – is the truth. "No, I didn't. It was poison. It manipulated me. It made me think I wanted what it wanted. I'm glad I'm free of it. I'd rather die free, right now, than live a whole lifetime in the thrall of that thing."

"But that's not true, is it? You wanted it. You _craved_ it. You kept it hidden, close to you, feeling the call… you hurt those people, Dameron. _You_." 

Poe shakes his head, not bothering to hide the sorrow in his eyes. "It _made_ me want it. Made me crave it. Made me keep it close. It didn't give me a choice in the matter. Some part of me hopes you work out the difference, before the end."

…Unless he _did_ want it. He can still remember how it felt: that craving at his core. That need to destroy his enemies, the Resistance's enemies. Not defeat, _destroy_.

No. No, no, no.

Closer. Her sabre hilt in her hand, and Danika uses the pommel to draw across Poe's chest, zig-zagging over the fabric. A pull of that memory, and she makes it blossom. Her touches might not be as delicate and poised, but they do have power and focus. 

"You wanted it. It wouldn't have worked so well if you didn't. You _wanted_ it, Dameron. Why deny it?"

Poe closes his eyes again, trying to remove himself from the moment. "Because I'm not at the mercy of my impulses," he replies.

This is a hair's breadth away from being a barefaced lie. He is a thrill-seeking hedonistic masochist, kept in check only by a tight moral code instilled in him from birth by his parents.

But that code is _there_ , and he believes in it, and he knows the difference between what he wants and what is **right**.

(Mostly.)

"Oh? How long after you met my former Master was it before you let him seduce you?" Danika can't help but ask, and her intent in his mind forces itself down that path, pulls out the memories to mock them.

And not because she wants to know what happened. Not at all. 

There's a little flare of anger in Poe at the _impudence_ of such a question, but he gets it in check before it can make him say anything. He can feel how much more control over his responses he's got, now he's free of the Eye, and it's a strange relief, despite everything else.

And there are two ways he can respond to this. He can tell her, in no short order, to mind her own business.

Or he can just _tell her_.

"Honestly?" he says, as if they're suddenly just discussing the weather. "Hard to tell for sure. Seduction's a process, not an on-off switch. Sometimes I think it only took hours. Sometimes a day or so. But the _real_ question is how long before _I_ seduced **him**? How long did it take me to steal the great Kylo Ren away from the so-called Supreme Leader and all his little followers? _**Not long at all**_."

"Because he was weak, and because he was pathetic, and nothing more," Danika snarls in response. It is not a judgement on the Order of Ren – or her, or Snoke – it's a matter of Kylo's pathetic lack of conviction. "He was always a little cry-baby. You know, he used to call his mother every night?"

Back when she was someone else. Back when they were _all_ someone else. 

She remembers then, too. "He just goes wherever the wind takes him. How soon do you think before he gets tired of you, too?" 

If the woman wasn't torturing him, and trying to murder everyone he loves, Poe could almost feel sorry for her. "You really don't know what love is, do you? I suppose I can't blame you for that. You were a child when the massacre happened. Though the fact that you would mock Kylo's connection with his mother… did you even _know_ your parents?"

And, more to the point, why does Poe always end up psycho-analysing his interrogators? Maybe he should ask Doctor Tamani, during their next session. Although, will he still need those now he's no longer crystal-crazy?

Will he ever see her, or anyone he knows, ever again?

"No. And nor did I need to." They'd been dead long before the man in the tan cloak came and offered them a 'future'. They'd been long gone, and she and her sister had been surviving just fine. Sort of.

Danika does not want to talk about it. They died, fighting. And that's all she knows, or wants to know. "I know love. I love my sister. Don't think the Dark doesn't understand _that_." 

"If you truly loved her, you'd stop all this," Poe replies. "Because, if you don't… you are going to get her killed. And there's every risk you'll survive long enough to see it happen."

"I'm going to win this fight." Danika doesn't appreciate the implication that she won't. "You just don't want to admit you backed the losing side." 

He hasn't screamed in a while. She decides it needs to change, and ignites her sabre. The blade presses against his upper thigh, scorching through the fabric and biting just into the flesh to burn it. "I'll do this to them, if they don't co-operate. Even the children, if I have to. I'll give them every chance to _surrender_ , and then I'll destroy them." 

Poe certainly screams. He barely has more than a second to brace for the pain before it hits, but it's so intense that his mind starts to white-out pretty quickly, cutting him off from some of the sensation, leaving him drifting on a feeling that is… half-familiar.

And half- _very familiar_.

"You're t-the one who's backed the losing side," he chokes out. "You're haemorrhaging followers and credibility at i-increasing speed. I'm _embarrassed_ for you."

The blade moves – scoring from one hip to the opposite shoulder – light enough that it doesn't damage organs or bone, but deep enough to make everything hurt. "You're the one strapped to a chair, who gave up his whole cause!" 

Now Poe _really_ screams, raw and completely unrestrained, the world rapidly going black, and hazy, and weirdly _cold_ …

…and he's sure this is it. This is it. She's going to kill him. She _is_ killing him, and he's going to die, without ever knowing if the Resistance got off Tahanan in time. Without ever having the chance to tell Kylo he's sorry. And that hurts _far_ more than anything Danika can do to him, although what she's doing right now comes pretty close, and he can't speak, can't think, can't _breathe_ from the agony, and…

The door to the room springs open, and Daria Ren comes hurrying in, grabbing her sister's arm and pulling her back.

"Danika. _Danika_!"

Danika nearly slices at her sister, but not through intent, just the sharpness of the movement as she's spun around. " _What_?" She's busy. She's busy, and angry, and Dameron needs to suffer. Doesn't she understand?

"General Hux has been listening to every word," Daria says, voice full of urgency. "He's already rallying the fleet. He's going to go after this planet – Tahanan – and he's going to use the Eye on it. _Our_ Eye. We don't know what will happen if he does that. How it will affect its powers. You can't just let him do this!"

"He's…" Going to use _her_ crystal. Hers. Not his. He doesn't have the Force, and he doesn't know – can't ever know – what it is that slumbers in the belly of this Star Destroyer. He's a Forceless fool, and…

"I'm going to kill him if he does," Danika tells her sister.

But Dameron… she's so close, and… _later_. Later. She can't let it happen, not yet. He can't fire it without her there to ensure it's right. "This isn't over, _pilot scum_."

"Yes it is," Poe whispers, on the edge of consciousness. "Yes… it _is_."

And he passes out.

"Leave him," Daria urges. "You have to talk to Hux. You have to tell him he can't do _anything_ with the Eye until we know more about it. And _never_ without your say-so."

"Come with me," Danika begs. No. Asks. Asks.

It's the… it's just the after-effects of…

"I need you, Dar. We have to stop him." 

"Yes," Daria replies. "Yes. Come on. We can't let Hux get away with this."

And, together, they hurry from the room, leaving the unconscious pilot behind them.

***

The last few days on Hinansho have been far from easy. With the Eye of Chikara lost to the First Order, and Poe still gone, the weight of the situation is heavy on everyone's minds.

This particular morning looks set to be the same… at least until BB-8 comes wheeling out of the main bunker at breakneck speed, bleeping and chittering and skidding across the duracrete as it hurtles off in Kylo's direction.

Kylo has been training hard with Rey and Tovim, trying to get the three of them to work in unison. Tovim still remembers enough of his style to fit alongside Kylo, but he either doesn't know how to – or doesn't want to – synchronise with Rey.

It's frustrating, and it's not _essential_ , but it would definitely help for them to work as a unit. He's about to instruct Tovim again when the blur of orange-white interrupts, and he's glad to have something to sink down to acknowledge him.

"What is it, BB?"

The droid rattles through information at breakneck speed, its rotors purring as it rocks back and forth in excited distress. 

"And my mother is coming?"

The droid's central unit bobs in a nod. 

"Then we need to go."

"Sure she's ready to do that?" Tovim asks. "I mean. I know she's not liking the house arrest – funny, that – but she _did_ get badly hurt."

"You can tell her not to," Kylo suggests. "See how long your kneecaps remain attached."

Rey pats Tovim on the shoulder. "Probably not long at all," she adds, cheerily, and unnecessarily.

The three of them – with BB-8 whirling along at Kylo's side – head back up towards the central command bunker, where people are already starting to gather. No one knows precisely why – not yet – but they've all been told it's urgent, and they're all clearly taking it seriously.

Inside, the command team are already at the main holotable. Leia is with them – she's been doing much better since finally coming to, although she's still unsteady on her feet and is using a hover-chair to get around whilst she's still healing.

She bats Han's hand away when he tries to help her up, though deigns to let Chewie assist instead, and then leans a little heavily on the holotable, waiting for everyone to gather.

Han grumbles at his wife's stubborn behaviour, but then moves to his place around the desk. Everyone settles into position, and waits for her to start.

Kylo is bitterly pleased to see his mother up and about. It's both discouraging and reassuring: one, that she's pushing herself and the situation is that grave; two, that she is healing enough to do it.

"What's happened?" he asks, cutting straight to the chase.

"Less than an hour ago, our listening posts picked up an encoded message from somewhere in First Order territory," Leia starts out. "There were no idents attached to it, so we don't know who sent it or whether they are genuine… but the message contained the coordinates of a Star Destroyer of unknown class, designated the _Successor_. This is the ship that HK-47 told us about: the new flagship of the First Order, and one we believe is designed to incorporate the Eye of Chikara. It is also where we will most likely find General Hux himself… and, Force willing, Poe as well."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Snap cuts in, the instant Leia falls silent. "Let's get every ship we have and go get those sons of bitches before they do any more damage."

"It isn't as simple as that," Statura says. "As General Organa pointed out, the message had no idents. No indication of who sent it. It may well be a trap."

And yet… "Master Yoda told us – on Dagobah – that we would receive a message we should trust." Kylo had wondered why, at the time. It had felt like a very strange thing to tell them, but now he suspects this is what he meant.

"You think it's legit?" Finn asks.

"I think even if it isn't, we have to do _something_. And although Yoda did conceal the Eye from us, he does admit we're the lesser of two evils compared to Danika and Hux." Hah. Such an endorsement. 

"Never liked that guy. Way too ready to let people die, if you ask me," Han grumbles. Apparently – thirty years on – he's still bitter. 

Kylo is more than in agreement with his father for once. "He wouldn't trap or trick us, not like this. Don't you agree, Rey?"

Rey nods. "I do. Refusing to help, I could believe. But not deception and lies. I think… we have to trust this."

"Because of something a long-dead Jedi told you?" Statura asks, sounding halfway between incredulous and cautious.

"Yes," Rey answers, calmly. And then she looks back to Leia. "What else was in the message?"

"Very little," is Leia's reply. "Just the coordinates, the ship's designation, and one other word."

"Which was?" Snap pushes.

Leia's expression turns even more grave. "' _Hurry_ '," she answers.

"How long before we can mobilise?" Kylo asks. He does not like that. Not at all. He needs to get to Poe – and the Eye – before it's too late.

And messages that even Jedi who despise him are approving can't go ignored.

"We need to board it, not just bomb it," Finn adds.

"Damn straight I'm boarding it," Kylo growls. 

"Looks like I'm with the boss," Tovim adds. 

"And me," HK-47 cuts in, pointedly. "I have not shot anyone for days. I require targets. Squishy, sloshy targets…"

The people standing closest to the droid all edge slightly further away, whilst trying to look like they aren't.

"Given the seriousness of the situation, we will need to commit all our resources to an attack," Leia goes on. "The _Successor_ must be destroyed, especially as we now believe it to be capable of using the Eye of Chikara as a weapon. But, before it is… we have to find out if Poe is on that ship, and retrieve him if at all possible. And… I would like to seize the opportunity to take out General Hux. Our best option is to get a boarding party onto the _Successor_ , led by Kylo and Rey, with backup from the Pathfinders, led by Finn. Meanwhile, our fighter wings, under the command of Captain Wexley, will engage the First Order's TIEs, keeping the way clear for the boarders to escape when the time comes. And staying on hand to destroy the _Successor_ , should it be necessary."

"I assume we didn't get any specifications with the co-ordinates?" Kylo asks. "No helpful schematics, or nicely laid out places for us to target our firepower?"

"Kid, there's a stonking big crystal in it. If it can blow shit up, you wanna bet it can be _blown up_ ," Han replies.

Oh, yes. That part he'd somehow not considered. Kylo nods in agreement, though it's not going to be easy to do, is it? Not and come out safely. "Good point."

"When it comes to destroying the _Successor_ , our best option is likely to emulate what we did on the _Decimator_ ," Leia says. "We're already planning on a sizable boarding party. That party will therefore include BB-8 – along with an escort – whose objective will be to access the ship's systems and find a way to destroy it, or to bring down its shields, letting the X-Wings do the rest."

"…you brought down the _Decimator_ with an astromech?" Tovim asks, whistling through his teeth.

"Yes. A very skilled and loyal astromech. And one who can zap your ankles if you decide to--"

"Boss, I'm impressed, nothing else, I swear."

BB-8 makes a little blip of satisfaction.

"You need some firepower to keep you safe, or you could do the whole thing," Kylo tells Poe's droid. 

"Tentative: I will volunteer for that," HK-47 says, with a trace of reluctance. "But only because attempting to take down an entire capital ship will cause _many_ target-shaped meatbags to come running in our direction."

"How are we gonna get two ships onto the _Successor_ in the first place?" Snap now asks. "Last time we had the Interceptors, but we only have one left, and there's no way they'd fall for that trick again." There's a slight pause, and then he gives a wry smile. " _Probably_ no way."

"I… have a suggestion," Rey chips in. "It may seem a little unorthodox, but I think it could work."

"Go on," Leia tells her.

"I've been learning the ancient art of Battle Meditation," Rey explains. "It's an old technique favoured by both Jedi and Sith. I used it a little when we confronted the Knights of Ren on Midwanjontû, but I've been practicing further since then, and I believe I could turn it to our advantage. If we want to get onto the _Successor_ whilst their shields are still up, our only option would be to rush straight at the hangar bays when they're launching TIE squadrons, because there will be a gap in the shielding at that time. Normally, the TIEs and the hangar bay cannons would shoot us down, but I think… I _hope_ … I could use Battle Meditation to get us through. To manipulate the weapons' fire and the ships just enough to find us a gap. It's risky, I won't lie, but… I can do it. I can."

"How would we get two ships through?" Kylo asks, not doubting her plan, just the details of the execution. He knows her calmer, more logical mind has taken to Battle Meditation in the same way he took to psychological manipulation. That's _his_ forte, and this is hers.

"Or did you intend us all to go in one ship?"

Finn's eyes narrow. "You think--?" he asks, not needing to finish the question.

Rey smiles. "I do. I fly the _Phoenix_ , and Finn flies the _Scion_. The Force-bond between us will allow us to react in near-unison, and – so long as we keep the ships very close together – it should be enough to get us both through."

Leia looks impressed. "That would give you a significant advantage. And with the X-Wings engaging the First Order TIEs, you'd have plenty of cover."

"Are we going into inhabited space? Are there going to be civilian casualties if we down the ship?" Kylo asks.

"Not unless you think rocks have feelings," Han snarks.

"That was one time."

"You made me keep it for--"

"So, we have a plan?" Finn tries to save Kylo from any more embarrassment.

Chewie roars that he thinks they do.

"We do," Leia concurs. "I wish we had the luxury of time to prepare more fully… but that message was clear. We don't. I want every battle-ready Pathfinder aboard the _Scion_ and every spaceworthy starfighter in the air, as soon as possible. You took down Starkiller and you took down the _Decimator_. Let's make it three-for-three, and let's bring Poe home."

Her eyes meet her son's. "And may the Force be with you all."


	33. Infiltrator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salutations, dear readers, and a joyous Saturday to you all! We come with our next chapter... and this one is pivotal. Trust us when we say: we've been waiting for this one for a long time!
> 
> Also. You may want to start stocking up on liquor and hugs. Y'know. Just in case. Forward planning. That. ;-)

Danika Ren goes to the bridge as fast as her short legs will take her. In her left hand, the crystal shard pushes between her fingers and into her palm, and she worries it over and over as she makes a bee-line for where that _man_ is going to be.

She doesn't care what the officers think when she storms onto the bridge.

"You are _not_ going to use the Eye. Not before I do!" She doesn't bother with greeting, going straight into her diatribe.

General Hux is deep in conversation with two officers at the very front of the bridge when Danika comes storming in. Both of them back off visibly as she does, though Hux himself merely turns, waiting until the woman speaks before saying anything.

Or, that's the plan, at least. He assumes she's come to yell some more about her failure to get anything of note out of Dameron, or perhaps to crow about having some new intel to share at last. So when she starts shouting about the Eye of Chikara, Hux is a little surprised.

"…That's quite right," he says, levelly, looking at her like she's lost her mind. Maybe she has. "We discussed this. I agreed to attack the Resistance – _when_ I find out where they are – using conventional means. That plan has not changed."

Nor will it. If Danika can find some more Force-sensitives, maybe he can borrow a few to use against Kylo whatever-the-fuck-he-calls-himself-now. That would render Danika herself entirely redundant, and as such it's a plan Hux is wholly invested in.

"You're a liar, and a bad one at that. You're going to fire it up without telling me! You think you can master it, and you don't have the Force! It isn't _you_ it called to, it's **me**." Danika doesn't even pay attention to the other people Hux had been talking to, they mean nothing to her.

Nothing, whatsoever. "That Eye belongs to the Knights of Ren."

Hux takes a deep breath. How did he end up babysitting these wretched _children_?

"Lady Ren. Whilst I feel you should be more aware of _who_ helped you attain the Eye in the first place and certainly more restrained when it comes to your conduct on my bridge, I can assure you that I have no plans to 'fire up' the Eye without your consent."

"You're _lying_ ," she shoots out, even as she pulls herself up a little. Daria told her. And Danika trusts Daria. And unless Daria was misinformed…

No. She was sure. That's why she came to her.

Of course.

"You're planning on blowing up the Resistance."

"Yes, I am," Hux replies, trying to keep his temper in check whilst simultaneously wondering _what_ is going on. "But not with the Eye."

He'd been annoyed about that at first – what good is a superweapon if you can't use it on your most hated enemies? – but Hux has gotten adept at playing the long game, and he knows there's a lot more at stake than merely destroying the Resistance. Plus, crushing them with overwhelming military force would be more than satisfying enough in its own right.

"Then how are you going to blow them up?" Danika asks, confused. It makes sense, even if it's against what their ground rules are. Why wouldn't he use it? What's wrong with him?

She would use it.

Now Hux sighs. "I have a great many troops and a great many ships. The only thing that has _ever_ held me back is _not knowing where their base is_. And yes, given the opportunity I would sorely love to see how much of their planet can be taken out using that crystal… but you and I had a deal and, contrary to your misguided rage, I am not in the process of reneging on it."

Then why did Daria say he was going to? It makes no sense. Danika rakes against Hux's mind, roughly, looking for any sense of a lie. She doesn't even attempt to hide her connection, or use any real level of skill. It's a drag of emotion, not a skilful extraction attempt. 

Hux is braced for the mental intrusion – he's suspected it would happen, given that Danika clearly doesn't believe a word he's saying – but even that doesn't prepare him for the feeling of it, the _audacity_. He manages to keep his expression level, not wanting to give away how sickened he is, fighting the instinctive urge to lash out.

The only saving grace in all this is that – right now – he _isn't_ lying. So all she'll find is proof of how wrong she is, and that's a small comfort.

" _Satisfied_?" he all but growls.

No, she really isn't. The connection severs as quickly as it was formed, and Danika shrinks a little into herself. _No_. "Then what are you doing?"

Because she can sense only self-righteous indignation and no duplicity in him. Not about this, anyway. He's burning bright with his sincerity, and now she feels even more ridiculous.

Why does this keep happening?

"Trying to win a war," Hux replies, shortly. "The fruitless attack on D'Qar required many resources and any future attack will require the same. I intend to be prepared, which is made all the more challenging by the requirement to keep _this_ ship hidden until _both_ of us are ready to use it. Now… is there anything else? Because, if not, I really must get back to work."

She has nothing to say, does she? Danika doesn't know why Daria thought this, or why she said she herself needed to avoid Hux. The crystal in her hand throbs, and she holds it tighter.

"No. Just… _no_ firing it without me." Like maybe she can save some face pretending she's just reinforcing the issue? Yeah.

The aching in her gut gets worse. She turns, anger making her head spin, determined to salvage whatever it's possible to salvage. 

This has to be that pilot's fault. Somehow. Maybe it's time to make him really, really sing. 

***

When Poe comes to, all he's aware of at first is _pain_.

It takes him a moment to think his way through it, to pull his own mind close enough to the surface that he can perceive anything else. His chest feels like it's on fire and it's a small wonder to him that he can even draw breath right now. He supposes he should be grateful that Danika is good enough with a lightsabre not to accidentally slice him in two, but it doesn't change the fact that being scored – even lightly – with the blade hurt more than he can put into words.

The only thing he can even think of that has ever hurt _more_ is Force-lightning, and…

…no, no, no, don't think that.

He doesn't know how long he's been unconscious, but he's both surprised and alarmed to find himself still in the interrogation room, still in the chair. Which makes him think maybe he hasn't been out for long at all.

It also makes him think that Danika Ren is planning to come back for more. And if she does…

Some part of him is so very sure that this is where he dies. Maybe here. Maybe today. And another part of him worries it will take far longer than that, and…

…Don't think about it. In fact, just don't think. At all.

But he can't _not_. The pain is too much for him to even try sending his mind under, and he's not even sure he _wants_ to try, given the connotations, and…

There's a heavy thunk, and the door springs open, admitting a single figure dressed entirely in black. Danika. Poe's blood goes cold, and his mind is suddenly racing, trying to work out what to do; how to stop this, or to just get her to kill him, or…

"Did you and General Hux kiss and make up?" he asks, semi-deliriously going for broke.

But Danika doesn't respond, and instead paces briskly up to him, holding out a hand. Poe closes his eyes and braces for what's coming…

…and he feels a slow, gentle warmth suddenly spread across his chest, across the lightsabre wound burned into him from hip to shoulder. He gasps in shock, taking a second to process that the woman is _healing_ him with the Force, and then he stares at her, wild-eyed and confused, still not lucid enough to work out what the hell is going on.

"Try to keep still," the woman above him says. "I can't fix this completely, but I can manage enough to get you mobile."

"What..?" he manages. "You… you were just _torturing me_ … and… oh, OK, look, this routine isn't going to work on me, I don't swing your way, and…"

" _Shush_ ," she replies, firmly, "I'm _concentrating_."

Poe can feel the pain in his chest and torso diminishing. It doesn't vanish completely – and nor does the wound – but it's obviously a lot less serious than it was moments ago.

"Why are you helping me?" he asks.

And that's when the Darksider reaches up to pull off her helmet. Beneath is the face of a woman far too young to be wearing the mantle of a galactic oppressor; blonde-haired and blue-eyed, and clearly a great deal more worried than her voice alone conveys.

And now Poe understands.

"…You're Daria, aren't you?" he says, softly.

She meets his eyes. "Yes. Yes. I'm Daria. Now hold still…"

"Kinda hard to do anything else," Poe points out, managing a trace of a wry smile.

Daria's hand goes to the wound on his leg, and he feels that same, soothing heat rush through it, as she uses the Force to repair some of the damage, healing muscle, closing flesh. He knows he's still going to need some fairly hefty medical treatment when he gets out of here, but…

When. Not if. On some level, he suddenly realises he might actually have a way out.

"Why _are_ you helping me?" he repeats. "I thought you and your sister…"

"…Danika's gone too far," Daria answers. Her tone is anything but level and she sounds sick with worry and grief. "I've tried to believe in what she's doing. I've tried, and I've tried, and I've trusted her, but… she's gone off the deep end, and I can't pull her back. We were supposed to be strong, and powerful, unstoppable and _safe_. But Danika… Danika will turn us into child-stealing torturers… and I can't become that, I can't… that's what _he_ was… and I won't… I…"

"It's all right," Poe tells her. "I understand. Better than you might think."

"Good. I hoped you would. I hoped… if I got you out, if I saved you…"

Her hand goes to the release for the chair's restraints, and they spring open. Poe manages to stagger down, still watching his rescuer warily. "…You need a pilot?" he asks, slightly unable to stop himself.

Daria gives him a flat look, which dissolves into something much more raw when she speaks. "I can fly just fine. I need… someone to take me to Kylo. I need the balance he's found. Otherwise… otherwise I'm going to fall apart. And I need him to help me save Danika, because I can't do it on my own, and if that means… if it… I can't say it, Dameron, but you know what I mean."

He does. _If that means killing her_.

"We need to get off this ship," Poe says, trying to stay focused on the immediate situation. "We need to get away, and then make contact with the Resistance. After that… we can worry about the rest."

Daria nods. "All right. Take off your shirt."

"…I'm sorry, _what_?"

Daria produces a black shirt from beneath the layers of her cloak. "I took this from one of the Stormtrooper supply closets. Yours is covered in blood and scored open. It's conspicuous. Plus I can't heal that wound any further and you need it covered in something clean."

Poe stares at her for a moment, then shrugs. "Fair point," he concedes, and does as he's told, managing to take off what remains of his own shirt (he must go through more of the things than the rest of the Resistance combined) before pulling on the one that Daria gives him.

The young woman looks him up and down. "Better. You'll do. And you're going to need these."

She reaches under her cloak again, unhooking two things from the back of her belt, and Poe feels his heart leap when he realises that the objects in question are his sabre-blaster, and the lightsabre he took from Kylo.

Daria holds them out. "If I can get you off this ship without bloodshed, I will, but if we need to fight, don't hold back."

Poe takes both, hooking the lightsabre hilt to his belt and keeping the blaster in hand. "I won't," he promises. "And… thank you for this. I mean it. I thought I was going to die."

"You still might," Daria tells him. "We aren't out of the woods yet."

***

Cautious and careful, Daria Ren and Poe Dameron walk the corridors of the _Successor_.

"We'll head to the nearest hangar bay," she tells him. "We can steal a ship – something with a hyperdrive – and get away from here. There will be more people around once we get closer, so… try to look like I've subdued you with the Force, and…"

"…I've had some practice at that," Poe replies, levelly. "Trust me. I'll be convincing."

"Be _very_ convincing," Daria says, either ignoring the insinuation, or missing it entirely. "I can mind-trick a few troopers, but if there are too many of them, I won't be able to…"

She falls abruptly silent as they round a corridor and come face to face with a lone First Order officer. Poe can't help thinking the guy is familiar – was he with Hux on Onderon? – but Daria clearly knows him because she stops at once.

"Mitaka?"

"The Resistance are coming," Mitaka says, without any lead-in whatsoever. "So you don't need to get on a ship just yet. Although I'm glad you're on our side at last, Lady Ren." 

Poe has his blaster pressed squarely into Mitaka's chest without a flicker of hesitation. His mind processes the words 'the Resistance are coming' but the rest of it is lost in the need to _act_ before the man sounds the alarm.

"You," he says, softly. "You were with Hux on Onderon. Weren't you? Give me one good reason not to shoot you where you stand."

"The part where I scrambled every reference to the base after D'Qar? Or the part where I gave our co-ordinates to the Resistance to come save you? Perhaps the part where I led you to the _Decimator_? Or… I could go on…" 

Now Poe stares, caught between anger and something else entirely. "You really expect me to believe you're _Copperwing_? You people _murdered_ Copperwing, then bragged about it on the airwaves for us to hear."

"Who do you think 'found' Copperwing, in order for him to be executed?" Mitaka points out, rather archly. "What kind of a double agent would be so bad as to get him- or herself caught?"

"No one's perfect," Poe counters, with a self-deprecating look, and then he headtilts, not yet lowering the blaster. "All right, then. Tell me something the First Order doesn't want me to know. And make it good. And then Daria will tell me if you're lying."

"Dameron…" Daria starts out.

"Humour me," Poe pushes. "Either this guy is the Resistance's greatest spy, or he's about to get shot in the chest. I would prefer to disprove the former before I carry out the latter."

Mitaka shrugs. "All right. The Order trains its new recruits at three stations. Arkanis Prime, Beta, and Gamma. They're in deep space, but if you'll allow me to use my datapad?"

The officer waits for approval, then pulls it out and flicks at it, before turning it to them. "There. That's the core of General Hux's training cadre. If you hit there, he will be crippled." 

"I can't speak for all of them, but I recognise the co-ordinates of the first one," Daria says. "I've been to Arkanis Prime. And… I sense no deception. Dameron, he's telling the truth."

Poe can't quite believe what he's hearing. He's been so certain the man was trying to trick them, but hearing the conviction in Daria's voice is enough to push him the other way. He lowers the blaster at once.

"Well, fuck," he manages. "You really are Copperwing?" The pilot holds out a hand. "I owe you my life. Several times over."

Mitaka shakes it, but brusquely and briefly. "You can thank me later. First, we need to get you away from the inevitable firefight that's about to break out, and somewhere we can get you back with the Resistance, when they board." 

"If the Resistance is coming, Kylo is coming," Poe says at once, his mind racing. A short while ago he was contemplating the reality of being tortured to death, and suddenly he's on the run, the Resistance's most daring spy _isn't_ dead, and he could be about to see Kylo again.

Does the line 'look, I found Copperwing!' negate what happened on Onderon?

Probably not.

But it's still better than the reality of being tortured to death.

"And if Kylo is coming," he goes on, "he'll be looking for me. And when he finds me… he'll be looking for the Eye of Chikara. And also we have a Force-bond, so when he gets close, finding me won't be difficult. So…"

"…No," Daria interrupts. "We're not going to the Eye. Do you realise how dangerous that would be? I got you out to save your life, not so you could get us both killed!"

"If the Resistance is coming after this ship, things only end one of two ways," Poe replies, levelly. "Either we all die, or this ship is getting blown apart. And if that's happening, I want to be with the people _escaping_ from it before it does. We have to get to the Eye, and wait for Kylo to show up."

"And if my sister finds us first?"

"We'll have to hope she doesn't! We–"

Poe is cut-off in mid-sentence as the whole ship suddenly rocks, as if it's been hit hard by weapons' fire. Alarms immediately start to ring out, seconds before the ship rocks again.

" _All hands to battle stations_ ," comes a voice over the intercom. " _Repeat: all hands to battle stations. Combat wings Alpha through Theta, report to the hangar bays_."

"It's where Ren – beg your pardon – _Organa-Solo_ will head," Mitaka agrees. "So please, make your decision quickly. I am working to a very tight timescale, here." 

"Fine," Daria concedes. "Fine. But if we die – or worse – just remember this was your idea."

And, the choice made, the three of them head off towards the Eye of Chikara: Daria Ren, Poe Dameron, and Copperwing.

It's certainly a turnout for the books. Though how it will end still remains to be seen.

***

The _Successor_ hangs in the black of space.

The great, vast ship – larger than the _Decimator_ , though without the useful-though-target-shaped gravity well generators, and dwarfed only by the _Executor_ of old – is currently on the far reaches of the Arkorai system, within the Unknown Regions of the galaxy.

And then, in a burst of light, ships begin to appear close by: the _Phoenix_ and the _Scion_ , with a swarm of X-Wings at their back. At the controls of the _Phoenix_ , Rey pauses for a second in shock, as she sees their target for the first time.

"Look at the size of that thing," she manages. "It's immense. Glad we brought help." She hits the radio. "Blue Leader, do you copy?"

"I copy, _Phoenix_ ," comes Snap's voice. "We're about to start our attack run. Good luck, all of you… and bring our boy home."

"Thank you," Kylo tells Rey, just before she starts. He knows that Poe means everything to her, too, but it still… it's still good, knowing how much love his friends have for his husband. How much they care.

And how – not so long ago – it was reversed. It was him they were coming to save. He hasn't forgotten that, even though sometimes he wishes he could. 

"You never have to thank me," Rey answers. "But you're welcome."

Out in space, the X-Wing squadrons suddenly start to break formation and begin their attacks, some firing on the _Successor_ and others engaging the swarms of TIE fighters that are now pouring out of the huge Star Destroyer's hangar bays.

Rey gets on the radio again. " _Scion_ , this is _Phoenix_. Finn, you ready for this?"

"Copy that. Ready when you are, _Phoenix_." Finn's voice sounds determined over the comm, and only slightly apprehensive. "Let's do this."

"All right. Stay close. And… be ready for me getting in your head a little…"

Rey actually blushes as she says this, though no one comments. And then she pauses, her eyes flickering, right before a reverberation _tears_ out through the Force as the young woman starts drawing on the powers of Battle Meditation.

It's really something to observe, even without being connected to her mind right now. Kylo can't see the actual patterns she can, but he can feel how the Force flows through and around her. Over, above… currents like a slipstream around a ship in atmosphere, like the way a lightsabre arcs through the air on a down-swoop. 

He doesn't want to interfere, doesn't want to break her concentration, so all he can do is observe. 

Rey brings them in closer, moving the _Phoenix_ through the swarm of combat like a boat cutting across the surface of a lake, the _Scion_ following so close behind, you could almost reach out and touch it.

All of a sudden, they swing sharply to the left, and then bank downwards, the _Successor's_ largest hangar bay in sight.

"We have to fly through the gap in their shields," Rey says, almost as if reminding herself. "Finn, watch out for the main cannons. I can deflect their aim, but only so far…"

"Remember not to let the Eye speak to you," Kylo warns her. "I'll try to distract it from you." 

"I can feel it out there," Rey tells him, and there's a shiver in her voice as she speaks. "It's so… intense. But I have control. I have control…"

They bank again, dodging a blast of cannon fire that sears close to the starboard wing, only just missing. And suddenly the hangar is right in front of them, and Rey's hands tighten on the controls.

"Finn, we have to do this fast. Too slow and the shields will catch us. We have to go in hot… and… _now_!"

The two ships surge forwards, breaking perfectly through the launch-gap in the _Successor's_ shields, and hurtling straight into the hangar bay.

"Brace. Brace!" Rey yells, and the _Phoenix_ jolts rather violently as it hits the deckplates, skidding some distance before coming to a halt.

Kylo almost doesn't hear the instruction. His mind sent far, to pull the Dark intent away from them. Far, but there's a flicker he knows all-too-well.

_Poe_. He's alive. He's alive, and he's here. He's going to save him.

The interference makes it impossible to feel him properly, but Kylo pushes as much reassurance as he can along their Bond. _We're coming. We're here. Stay alive. Stay safe._

He sees Rey staring. "I can feel him," he explains, his eyes pricking. "I can feel him!"

"We'll find him," she replies. She looks drained by what she's just done, but there's no lack of determination in her eyes. "We will."

"We should move quickly," HK-47 now chips in. He's been silent on their approach – no doubt recognising the importance of not interfering. But then, Rey is not the first user of Battle Meditation he's met.

At his side, BB-8 bleeps in agreement, which makes HK-47 sigh audibly. "Strained request: Be less cheery."

BB-8's central dome whirls up at break-neck speed. If the droid had fingers, it would be snapping them in a Z-formation right now. In curt binary, it points out that HK would feel the same to find _its_ master.

"You go, ball," Tovim says, and nudges the droid with his foot.

"Do that again and I remove your foot," Kylo says. "After we win."

"We should get moving," Rey cuts in, perhaps a little pointedly. She leads the way to the back of the ship and down the boarding ramp, into the middle of what is already a pretty significant firefight, as the Pathfinders pouring out of the _Scion_ begin to engage the somewhat shocked First Order troops.

"Finn!" she calls out.

"Some help?" Finn calls back, blasting his way through several of the ground troops. The Pathfinders are winning, but they're taking a few hits in the process.

Kylo flares out a sudden bolt of Force-lightning, jolting through a group and dropping them en-masse. 

Tovim whistles. "Nice. Gotta teach me how to do that."

"Not on your life, Tovim."

"Targets!" HK-47 shouts with unveiled relish, opening fire again and again. The droid is uncannily accurate, taking down Stormtroopers at pace, helping to keep them from being overwhelmed.

Rey's sabre is up in a second; vibrant blue arcing through the air as she deflects blaster bolts back at the enemy. Hand up, she pushes out with the Force, knocking a pair of troopers to their feet, and clearing the way for Finn to get to them.

Tovim's red blade comes out, and he launches himself at a small group of his own, gleefully carving through and – perhaps unsurprisingly – a small contingent of the Stormtroopers run in the face of so many strong opponents.

"Oh, come on! Where's the fun in that? Hux will have you all executed anyway!" Tovim calls after them.

Finn looks grim, glancing to Rey for her support, then back to his Pathfinders. "All right, Alpha Team: secure this area, and hold it. Bravo, you move out. Everyone clear?"

There's a resounding 'Sir, yes, Sir' from the troops.

Kylo's sabre – Darth Vader's – thuds steadily in his hand, casting a red slash of light over the floor.

"Tovim, I need you and the droids to start work on bringing this ship down. BB-8… look for any sign of where Poe is being kept. Rey… we're going to need to find that crystal."

Rey nods, expression resolute, flickers of the latent thrill of power in her eyes. "Agreed," she answers. "The chances are high that Danika will be there, and we need to make sure she – and Hux – aren't about to use the crystal against our starfighters."

They don't know if the weapon element is operational yet. They weren't fired at with anything unconventional on the way in… but they can't risk being complacent.

BB-8 bleeps enthusiastically and rolls to the nearby wall terminal, jacking in and starting to access the ship's systems. The little astro jumps back after a moment, whirling over to them again and bumping close to Kylo in a mixture of alarm and excitement, announcing that an alert has just been put out because a high-profile prisoner has gone missing.

"Wait, he's loose?" Rey cuts in, surprised.

BB-8 gives a happy bleep. _Yep_.

Of course he is. "…wait… the message…" Kylo's eyes widen. "It was him, or someone helped him. We've got inside help?"

"Looks that way. Didn't you have assets in deep cover?" Tovim asks. "Maybe they activated."

"We lost them, or… we thought we did, anyway," Kylo answers. But if they have someone assisting, all the better. 

"If Poe's on the run, he'll be looking for us," Rey points out. "He'll be looking for _you_ , Kylo. Do you think he'll try to get to the Eye as well? Or… can you reach him, through your bond?"

"There's a lot of interference. I can… I can feel him, but not… I can't speak to him. Can you?" he asks Rey, of Finn. "Could proximity make it easier?"

Rey pauses a moment, a flare in the Force as she reaches out, obviously wanting to test the theory without completely distracting Finn from the firefight he and the Pathfinders are engaged in, beyond the immediate shelter of the ship.

"…The Eye is clouding everything," she says. "It's like trying to see through thick fog. But I can reach Finn from here, which means you should be able to reach Poe, if you get closer to him."

"Then we go looking. I think I have Poe-dar by now," Kylo jokes, as lightly as he can. He can't find any sense of real distress in Poe, so he takes that as a good sign. He'd know if – he'd know.

"Boss, you okay if we head out?" Tovim asks.

"Be my guest."

"C'mon, Tall and Small," Tovim coos at the droids. 

BB-8 beeps indignantly. 

"I can't promise the meatbag will return with both kneecaps," HK-47 remarks, pointedly, as they head off.

"We should get moving too," Rey says to Kylo. "The sooner we make it to the Eye, the better."

Kylo cannot _wait_ for that accursed thing to be destroyed for good. "Let him walk until he's no longer useful," he tells HK, before tossing his head over his shoulder for Rey to follow him deeper into the _Successor_.


	34. Target Locked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, dear readers, and welcome back! We have another chapter for you today, in which events spiral ever-closer to their inevitable conclusion.
> 
> Needless to say... join us next week for the showdown you've been waiting for. Bring liquor and hugs. You're going to need them.

Danika Ren is half-way to the chamber when the first shudder hits the ship. She's close enough to the hull to hear and feel the vibrations, and she slams at her comm unit.

"Daria? Daria… the hell is happening?" she demands.

No answer.

Fucking…

"Jolek?"

A short pause. "Yes?"

"What's going on?"

"Looks like we're under attack."

" _I guessed that, but what is going on?_ " Is she surrounded by idiots?

"X-Wings, looks like. No idea how they got here."

"They're after the Eye." Fuck. "I need you to meet me there. We _cannot_ let them take it."

"Yes, Master." Jolek's voice drops off, and Danika pulls out her sabre, ready. Hux can fight his fight outside, but there's only one thing on this ship she's interested in.

Well. Two. She still wants to know where her sister is, and why Daria is now lying and hiding from her. Things are – things feel… like they're getting thin at the edges, and she's struggling to pull the fraying threads back to one whole canvas.

Despite anything telling her not to, Danika breaks out into a run for the Eye.

***

The bridge of the _Successor_ is chaos.

"How _many_ of them, Lieutenant?" Hux snaps at the underling who has just turned from her console.

"I don't _know_ , sir," she replies, more shortly than he would usually tolerate. "It looks like two ships breached our shields, but the hangar bay is currently engulfed by blaster fire and it's interfering with our scanners, so I can't determine how many boarders there are."

"Then _guess_ ," he insists, even more firmly.

"A _lot_ ," she retorts.

_Fuck_.

Hux turns away and stalks to the far end of the bridge. "I want Stormtrooper units dispatched to deal with this," he tells the next officer he sees. "Get those _Resistance dogs_ off my ship, preferably in **body-bags**."

The officer salutes and hurries away, most likely before they get shouted at any more.

How did this day go from victory to a full-on clusterfuck in little more than a breath? Hux doesn't know. But when he finds out who is responsible, he's going to teach them the meaning of the word 'pain'. In depth. For a long time.

The whole ship rocks again as an X-Wing comes flying past the bridge window, chasing down a pair of TIE-fighters. One of the two gets caught with laser fire, and goes spiralling into the main body of the _Successor_ , and even more alarms start to go off.

"Deploy more fighter-wings! I am not having this happen _again_."

He doesn't need to say what 'this' is. Everyone knows. And, right now, Hux is uncomfortably aware of it.

Barely pausing for breath, he grabs another of the bridge officers and drags the man to his feet. "Get Captain Phasma on the comm. And find that Dark Side maniac I am saddled with. If Kylo Ren – or _whatever_ he calls himself – is on this ship, I want to know about it _yesterday_."

"Sir, yes, sir!" the officer says at once, looking grateful when Hux lets him go.

"And another thing!" Hux shouts, making the officer freeze in mid-step, risking a look back. "Where the _fuck_ is Lieutenant Mitaka?"

***

Poe, Daria and Mitaka hurry along the corridors of the _Successor_.

The ship is immense, and even moving at pace, it feels like they're getting nowhere. The only saving grace in all this is that Mitaka – who Poe is still calling Copperwing in his head – knows the layout of the ship, so can direct them around most of the Stormtrooper patrols, avoiding the need for a fight.

Poe can feel flickers down his bond, flickers of Kylo, and he knows the other man is here, now. But the feelings are hazy, and distant, and he's sure the Eye is blocking them somewhat.

Nonetheless… _Kylo is here_. And that's good. That can only be good.

Could this be about to end? And is that something Poe should think?

And… what is he even going to say to his husband, when they find each other? After what happened on Onderon… Poe doesn't know. He's trying not to dwell on it. He knows the things he did were caused at least in part by that crystal shard, but it doesn't feel that simple.

It still _feels_ like he betrayed his husband quite significantly.

"Are we getting close?" he asks, needing something to focus on.

"Yes," Daria answers. "But we're moving towards the more populated areas of the ship. Mitaka, can you –?"

She's interrupted as they round the next corner and find themselves face-to-face with another group: two droids, and…

"…Tovim?!" Poe exclaims.

"Oh, look who we found! Wait… don't shoot me," the Knight says, hands up (but one of them still holding a blaster).

Before anyone can say any more, though, the smallest of their number screeches in happiness and barrels straight at Poe's legs, below the knee, and circles him in manic whorls of glee and reunion. 

Poe drops down when he sees BB-8, a thrill of joy in his chest, and – when the little astro has slowed enough – he holds out his arms, and wraps his droid in close, head resting against BB-8's central dome.

"I missed you too, buddy," he says, everything else forgotten for the moment. "I'm OK, yes, I'm OK."

This isn't strictly true, and the sudden movement reminds him of it all too clearly, but he can worry about that later.

"Tovim… what are you doing here?" Daria says, her voice a mixture of surprise and concern. "And… HK-47?"

The taller droid gives a curt nod. "Meatbag," he replies, in what is evidently meant as a greeting of sorts.

Tovim shrugs. "Boss told me to help bring this… wait. Why are you with Poe, anyway?" He reaches for his sabre, maybe a moment too late. All the weird droid stuff distracted him. 

BB-8's chassis opens on a tiny blowtorch, an echoing threat. 

Poe leaps up at once, moving in front of Daria – and Mitaka – and holding out his hands. "Daria rescued me," he answers, quickly. "And Mitaka happens to be a deep-cover Resistance spy. I'll vouch for both of them."

"He's telling the truth, Tovim," Daria says. "Danika's gone too far. I… can't let this go on."

"…what about her, though?" Tovim asks. "Bet she isn't going to be happy when she finds out. You _do_ know what that means, right?" 

"Yes. I know. I have to talk her down. I have to. But if I can't…" Daria trails off, her eyes and her voice both haunted. "…I have to."

"Where are you three even going?" Poe asks, still watching Tovim carefully. Still not trusting him even a little. Although… if BB-8 is with him, that has to be a good sign. Right?

"We're trying to – you know – save the day? Hack the system? That kinda stuff?" Tovim shrugs. "I'm the muscle, these two are the brains here."

BB-8 bleeps that this is the first sensible thing Tovim has said. 

"You are only the muscle in that you _possess_ sloshing flesh, meatbag," HK-47 replies, levelly. "But otherwise, he speaks the truth," the droid adds, turning back to Poe. "My new master, Darth Kylo, is on board and heading for the Eye of Chikara. He believes he will also find you there, so you might want to hurry things up a little."

"You're… not like any other droid I've met," Poe manages.

"Quite right," HK says. "I am not." He turns back to Tovim. "We should keep moving. We need to reach the relevant access point so the small cheery ball can sabotage this vessel."

BB-8 tells HK that it is glad HK is one of a kind, but that it also appreciates him. Although BB-8 says this from the relative safety of Poe's legs.

"…I also have the Force," Tovim reminds the assassin unit, a little stuffily. "Remember?"

Poe can't help a slight smirk at that, though he doesn't comment. Getting a rise – even a minor rise – out of Tovim is an impressive feat, and it makes him like HK-47 more.

"I recall it being mentioned somewhere," HK says, dryly, and then opts to turn to Poe. "We should keep moving," he repeats, as if hoping to get a more favourable response out of the pilot. "As should you. Darth Kylo will want to know you're alive, and this is not a good place for idle chatter."

"The heavily-armed droid has a point," Poe concurs. "We should all keep going. We can talk when this is over."

"Wait," Daria interjects. "Tovim… come with us. I'm sure HK-47 can protect the astromech. But we… we need you. When we run into Danika… we need you."

The taller Knight considers for a moment, then nods. "Yeah. You might. All right… you two metal-heads ready to go adventure without Mommy and Daddy?" 

"I take it back," Daria sighs, glowering at him. "Go fall out an airlock or something."

"No, no, you were right first time," Poe says in resignation. "Much as I hate saying it, we need all the Force-users we can get. BB-8, HK-47… continue with your sabotage plan, then meet us at the Eye. Tovim… you're coming with us. Much as I wish you weren't."

"Hey, as long as I get to stab things and people? Sign me up." Tovim's shoulders shrug off the comment. "Now?"

"Whatever we do, we do it soon," Mitaka reminds them. "We have a small window of opportunity, here." 

"You're right," Poe agrees. "Let's get moving."

***

"We're getting closer," Rey says to Kylo, as the two Greysiders hurry along the corridors of the _Successor_. "It's like the air is filling with fog. But… only inside my head."

"I'm beginning to wonder if the Dark Cave that Uncle Luke went to wasn't… worse than what we saw on Eigengrau. Aren't you?"

Not that what they'd seen there had been a barrel of laughs.

Rey nods. "Yes," she answers, a flicker of alarm in her tone. "What we saw on Eigengrau was distressing, but it was also… clear. Certain. But this… this really is like fog, with shapes hiding in it, constantly shifting and changing, impossible to pin down. If the Eye was on Dagobah… no wonder Master Skywalker saw terrible things there."

A heavy pause. "It's going to happen to us, too, isn't it?"

"I fear so. But… we'll get through it. Luke did. So we can, too." And Kylo has to remind himself he's just as strong as Luke ever was. That his Dark doesn't weaken his Light.

Even if it's hard to think that, when you're close to drowning.

"You're right," Rey agrees, sounding like she, too, needs the reassurance. "And neither of us is alone. We can do this, Kylo. I believe it. I _know_ it."

"We have to find a way to destroy it for once. And even Master Yoda couldn't do that… unless he also used it to hide." Which is possible. He wouldn't put anything past the nasty little troll. 

Rey nods again. "I know. But we have both sides of the Force. And, if the crystal has been attached to the systems within this ship – so they can use it as a weapon – we may be able to take advantage of that."

"Or just fly the whole thing into a star," Kylo suggests. "That would work, too." 

And would be somewhat less satisfying, but the end result would be right. If they could guarantee it would complete the trajectory.

"It would work as a last resort," Rey agrees. "We'd have to get everyone off it first, or be able to accept causing their deaths. But if nothing else will be enough to destroy the Eye…"

"I think…" a pause. "…we go that way, next. Yes?"

"Yes."

In more ways than one.

***

It's inevitable that they'll run into a Stormtrooper patrol eventually.

A group of four rounds the corner just up ahead of Poe, Daria, Tovim and Mitaka, instantly drawing their weapons when they see Poe, and then freezing in confusion when they see Daria and Mitaka.

"Halt!" one of them orders. "Explain yourselves!"

Explanation is out of the question. Poe raises his sabre-blaster and shoots the speaker without hesitation, and the others immediately launch at them.

Tovim deflects the first few blows, inexpertly, then slams his mind against the closest shooters, turning them around. It's hard to do, from the way they waver between targets, confused. 

"Now is the time to continue shooting at them," the Knight suggests.

Mitaka takes out two without blinking. "So noted." 

The final one falls under another of Poe's blaster-bolts, and then he turns immediately to Mitaka, looking impressed. "Is there anything you _can't_ do?"

"…I'm not very good at cooking," Mitaka admits, with a lazy shrug. 

Tovim narrows his eyes at the man. "Yeah, you seem wasted as whatever Hux had you doing."

"Part of my cover." 

"We should keep moving," Daria cuts in. She's looking and sounding more and more unsettled with every step, and Poe worries what will happen if – _when_ – they run into Danika. "We… wait, I can feel someone… someone close… we can't afford to linger…"

They hurry onwards, past where the fallen Stormtroopers lie, and up towards the open blast doors into the next section; Tovim in the lead, with Poe close behind, and Daria and Mitaka bringing up the rear.

And then it happens. The blast doors suddenly slam shut, with Poe and Tovim on one side, and Daria and Mitaka on the other.

"Fuck!" Poe calls in alarm, turning back to the door, instinctively looking for a way to get it open, and then whirling round again as he realises they aren't alone.

A red blade kicks out, and the very, very broad man wielding it seems to bleed venom from around his mask out at them. "Traitor."

"You guys love that word," Tovim jokes, weakly. He has his own blade out a second later, trying to stand between Jolek and Poe. 

On the one hand, Poe does not want Tovim defending him, even a little. But, on the other… his last encounter with Jolek Ren did not go well. Not well at all. And here, there's no one to interrupt. He raises his blaster, but he doesn't dare fire, not knowing what Jolek will do. Not sure if the man can stop blaster-bolts in midair like Kylo can, or if he can at least deflect them.

"Stand down," Poe insists, instead. He doesn't for one second think Jolek will, but he has to at least try.

"Oh, I think I'm going to enjoy this," Jolek purrs, and slams the Force at them both, sending them flying into the door together.

Tovim cuts his blade, obviously not wanting to kill Poe by mistake in their fall. That means he doesn't have it lit when he's dragged to his feet, though he remedies it as soon as he can. "Jolek, you're losing, don't you see?"

"Not from where I'm standing." 

Poe manages to pull himself upright, head ringing a little from the force of the impact, though it's nothing compared to the renewed pain blazing through his chest. "It doesn't have to be this way," he gasps. "End this madness. Snoke is long gone. The Knights of Ren are finished."

Jolek is too busy slamming his sabre towards Tovim, though, using his height and brute Force as he moves, growling wordless anger.

"Take… it talking… is off the table?" Tovim jokes as he holds up, but barely, with his own sabre.

Until he cuts it, and whirls away with the forward momentum, trying for range as he knows that brute force will never be his strength.

"Once you're dead."

"Even if you kill us both, you won't get off this ship alive," Poe cuts in. "Kylo will see to that."

"Still be worth it, if you're dead." Jolek shoves, pinning Tovim to the wall with one lifted hand. 

Tovim, who squirms with fear in his eyes, his sabre-hand slowed almost to nothing as the pressure increases. "I'd prefer not to die, why don't you?"

A lift of blade, pushed just below his jaw. "Worth it. To see you. **Dead**."

Which Tovim clearly thinks he is, his weapon falling to the floor in a yelp of pain, his eyes jammed shut against the inevitable. He's going to die, and it's like this… 

" **Let him go**."

Poe hears himself say the words, without thinking about it, without planning it. At the same time, his hand goes to his belt, sliding his blaster back into its holster and drawing the sabre-hilt he's carrying. A twirl of the wrist – something he's seen Kylo and Rey do – and the blade sparks into life, filling the air with renewed light.

And – still not pausing long enough to think about it – he launches himself at Jolek, knowing he needs to act before the man kills Tovim.

Jolek clearly doesn't expect it, and he hardly has time to react as the first blow slices his upper arm. He's about to run Poe through when there's a sudden flurry of limbs and a head appears over his shoulder. There's arms and legs octopusing from behind.

"Don't stab me!" Tovim yells.

"Get _off me_!" Jolek growls.

"No promises!" Poe yells back, and manages to get a blow in, swiping Jolek squarely across the chest. And – though the man may have the benefit of armour where Poe had none – he knows all too well how much _that_ hurts.

But he doesn't stop. Not because he's seeing red, and not because he's lost in anger, but simply because he knows how this has to end. Before he can let himself hesitate – and whilst Jolek is still reeling from the first blow – Poe kicks upwards, sending the man staggering and, mercifully, knocking Tovim off him.

Jolek's blade comes up and they lock once, twice… and then Poe slips under the taller man's guard, stabbing him squarely in the chest.

There's a moment of shocked realisation, and then Poe yanks the lightsabre blade back, and the body drops to the ground.

"…well… count me down as terrified _and_ aroused?" Tovim says, with a weak laugh in his voice. 

"…Shut up, Tovim," Poe manages, trying to catch his breath as he stares at the body at his feet. He's killed plenty of people, but never quite like _that_. The sabre is still thrumming in his hand, and he feels… he feels… glad he doesn't have that crystal shard trickling poison into his mind.

"…you okay?" Tovim sounds like he doesn't want a 'no', but that maybe he has to ask, all the same. "You do know he deserved it, right?"

"Just great," Poe deadpans. "And yes, I know it. And I'm not sorry I did it. And… this doesn't mean that I like you."

Even if I did save your life. Sort of.

"You saved my life. Don't I owe you some kind of Wookiee Life Debt?" Tovim's brows lift. "You must like me, after all." 

"You're not a Wookiee. And I hereby free you of all debt or implication that you owe me a Force-damned thing," Poe says, very quickly. "And no, I don't like you after all. Now help me get this wretched door open."

And don't talk. Or anything else.

"Awww, you _really_ like me," Tovim coos, as he comes over with his own sabre. "Hang on… I'm going to hack the panel." And he lifts his blade ready. 

"Shut up, Tovim," Poe repeats, flatly.

Tovim's 'hacking' has the door open in moments, revealing Daria and Mitaka on the other side, with several additional dead Stormtroopers around them, and midway through trying to trip the door lock themselves.

"…Jolek too?" Daria says, softly.

Poe nods. "Yes. I had no choice."

"I know," Daria tells him.

Mitaka looks beyond them. "We can leave the body, but we should retrieve the weapon."

Tovim nods, and goes to grab it.

"You should take it, Mitaka," Poe says. "You're the only one of us without a sabre, and you might need it before this is over."

"Very kind," he says, with a strange tone, but then the weapon is on his belt and the moment is over.

"Then there was one… no offence, Dar." 

" _Shut up, Tovim_ ," Daria growls. "And don't call me that. And this is my sister we're talking about. My **twin**. So just _**don't**_."

"Hey… not my fault she's--"

Mitaka kicks him.

"…fine." 

"Tovim," Poe says, in the voice he uses when the pilots are misbehaving and he _isn't_ personally responsible. "Stop."

What, precisely, did he do to deserve this?

"You guys kept me locked in a house for weeks, what do you expect?" Tovim grumbles. "I got bored!" 

"You're lucky that's all we did," Poe points out. "Now shush."

He rubs a hand over his eyes. He hurts all over and focusing is hard and he just killed a very large man with a lightsabre. With a lightsabre.

"Come on. We have to keep moving."

Mitaka nods. "It's what I've been saying all day."

On some level, none of them really wants to go where they're going. And all of them have to.

And, one way or another, it will all come to a head far too soon.

***

The bridge of the _Successor_ is still chaos.

Hux just has to hold onto the fact that it is now _organised_ chaos. It is certainly a hub of activity, as the officers at different stations co-ordinate the different fighter squadrons – launching more as and when necessary, those fucking X-Wings be damned – whilst other work on repelling the boarders who are now loose within the ship.

They seem to be everywhere. They've definitely split up, which makes working out what they're trying to do even more difficult, and makes tracking down _which one is Kylo fucking not-Ren_ also more difficult.

Hux takes a deep breath. He is still in control. The Resistance can only keep up this onslaught for so long.

Out the front window, a pair of blue-streaked X-Wings barrel-roll past, chasing a TIE-fighter, and Hux rolls his eyes.

This would be easier if the Resistance didn't seem to be _enjoying_ itself so much.

"Get more fighters deployed," he shouts at one of the officers. "And someone find Captain Phasma."

More deep breaths. Hux really wants someone to kill right now. Ideally with his bare hands.

Or his vibroblade.

Phasma is not far away, and her high-shined chrome boots clip their way up to him. Her face is inscrutable below the helmet, though her posture screams more.

"You called for me, Sir?"

"Ah. There you are, Captain." Hux always feels better when Phasma is around. Her competence is soothing, and they have helpfully complementary views on acts of violence. "I want a report on the Resistance boarding parties."

"They appear to have split into at least three discrete parties," she says. "One comprising the ex-Lord Kylo Ren and his female associate; one of the ex-Lord _Tovim_ Ren, the droid who escaped, and another; and one of the ex-Trooper FN-2187. And associates."

Her tone is scathing, but not directed at Hux. "It also appears that the Resistance pilot has escaped and is on the run, with assistance."

Hux sighs. Deeply. His reaction – similarly – is not directed at her, but at the same time it's impossible not to make his feelings known.

"All of them at once," he says, bitterly. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Tell your people to give the Force-users a wide berth unless they have no choice. Focus on the others. I have every confidence that the remaining Knights of Ren will be looking to deal with the illustrious Kylo and his little friends. That's what I _keep_ them here for, after all. If you manage to recapture Dameron, have him brought straight to the bridge, so I can blow his brains out on the intercom for his husband to hear. And…"

A pause. It's telling, but Hux has more pressing concerns to deal with.

"…I'm going to start powering up the weapon," he tells her. "Danika will not be happy. If she survives long enough to overreact, I may need your assistance in dealing with her."

"If it comes to it, I will remain by your side until the 'situation' is resolved," Phasma agrees.

Which might be a blaster bolt to the Lady Ren's head, which Phasma is all too ready to dish out. 

Hux nods. "I can always count on you." It's something of a relief. Most of the time, he feels like he's surrounded by idiots. "Right now I am caught between hoping Kylo kills her, and concern at what he will do _next_ , if he manages it."

"We can always vent parts of the ship," Phasma points out. "If it comes to it." 

"We may have to," Hux concurs, easily. Although, if he hadn't spent so long _building_ this vessel, the urge to get himself and the few people of worth to his escape shuttle, lock all the doors, and blow the _Successor_ to hell would be stronger than Hux would like to admit. "I will not tolerate failure here, Captain. We have come too far to let the Resistance wrong-foot us now."

"I will relay your orders straight away," she says, with a nod. She understands, or seems to, anyway. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" 

"Kill as many of them as humanly possible," Hux replies. "And see if you can find Lieutenant Mitaka. He's a useful aide, and I would be disappointed if he'd gotten himself killed already."

"As you command," Phasma says, and snaps even smarter to attention before heading off to complete his instructions. 

Hux waits until Phasma is gone, then turns back to the bridge window, hands clasped tightly behind his back. Ordinarily… he knows he should be enjoying this. A swarm of silly little Resistance ships, arrogant and foolish enough to think they can take on a Star Destroyer as mighty as the _Successor_. But it isn't that simple. With those accursed Force-users in the mix, it never is.

This is all their fault. All Kylo's, all Danika's, even… _Snoke's_. Hux would never admit it out loud, but the more he dwells on it, the more he's sure all of this tracks back to the now-dead, once-Supreme Leader. Hux had followed him loyally – they all had – but now, free of the man's influence, having finally stepped into his place, he can see how many of his current problems are all down to one thing:

_The Force_.

But he doesn't have it. He doesn't need it. And, right now, every known Force-user in the galaxy is here, on this ship. _His_ ship. Today might not mark the end of the Resistance, but it could mark the end of the insufferable Force-sensitives.

Danika Ren be damned. All of them be damned.

General Hux turns to the officer at the primary weapons' console.

"Start powering up the superlaser," he says.


	35. Broken Bond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, dear readers. We come at last to this: to the culmination of everything. To _Chapter Thirty-Five_. 
> 
> Perhaps it's best we say nothing at all. Only... *pushes the liquor and hugs closer* ...we'll leave these here. Y'know. Just in case.

Deep within the passageways of the _Successor_ , Kylo and Rey come to a door.

They've passed plenty as they've moved through the ship, but this one radiates _danger_ in the Force, bright and dark all at once.

Rey pauses. "…This is it," she says, voice a little haunted. "It must be."

"We're going to destroy it," Kylo says, as much to himself as to her. "This is it. No more. No more, after today."

It clamours in his head, a vibration that seems to pulse harder, faster, hotter. He waves a hand to open the panel, only to see inside…

One of the two sisters, back to them, a mantra of 'no, no, no' as she realises the weapon is priming. Hux is planning to fire her Eye, and Danika is not ready.

She whips her head around, eyes angry. " _You're not taking it from me_." 

"We have no intention of taking it," Rey answers, as she and Kylo pace closer – though not too close. Not yet. "We're going to destroy it. None of us will be safe until that thing is gone."

"You **can't** ," Danika snaps. "You can't. It's mine." Her sabre lifts, and she swirls an arc in front of her, keeping them at bay.

Kylo holds his own blade up, at an angle, ready to defend or attack. "Danika… this is your last chance. Put down your weapon, and let us help you. I will not offer this a second time. You need to _stop_." 

She throws a wave out through the Force, a virtual 'fuck you', and charges headlong at Kylo. "Never, Traitor!" 

Rey's sabre sparks into life, dazzling blue that once belonged to two Skywalkers, and speaks of the constant battle between Light and Dark, and of the point of balance at their very centre. It's something the young woman understands all too well; something that is clearly never far from her mind.

"We can _help you_ ," she insists, bringing the sabre up to join the fray. "It doesn't have to be like this."

"Oh? So you can change your mind in another fifteen years?" Danika won't accept it, _can't_ accept it. You can't just go around changing and believing only to stop believing. That's not how belief works.

"We were lied to!" Kylo catches her thrust, using his weight and height to throw her back. "We were _lied_ to. But no more!"

"We're making something new," Rey adds, trying to cut in under Danika's guard. "Something better. Something _different_. And there is still a place in that for you and your sister, if you want it."

Above their heads, the crystal starts to thud, the light inside twisting and flexing, almost as if it's organic and breathing. Danika yelps in frustration, and reaches up to pull at the power inside of it, drawing it down her arm like lightning seeking earth. "I want _this_ ," she says, and throws a ball of bright, red-orange light at them.

Fuck. Kylo throws his blade up, catching and dispersing the bolt. It's not quite like normal Force-lightning, but it's just as deadly. "We can have both. Dark. Light. Love. It isn't the Jedi, Ava. It's--"

"DO NOT CALL ME THAT." 

Rey rolls to the side as that bright ball of light hurtles towards them, managing to turn the momentum into something that lands her back on her feet. "You could be _free_ ," she insists, desperately trying to make the other woman see sense. "You could be powerful. You could be **safe**."

"I AM POWERFUL!" Safe, less so. Danika finds the frazzle of electric current in the Eye, whips it manic, makes it spark out instead of build up as Hux's charging tries. She's fighting a losing battle, but it's slowing down the rate of charge as she turns the room into a concentrated firestorm.

Kylo reaches inside, finding his own – blue – sparks. He slams them into hers, fighting the Dark with his own power. "Take her down," he grunts to Rey, as he tries to hold off the balls of light. 

"It didn't have to be like this," Rey says, and then launches at Danika with all her strength.

***

The _Successor_ rocks again as Poe and his unexpected trio of companions head towards the ship's deadly core.

"Tell me we're almost there," Poe says.

"We _are_ there," Daria replies, pointing up ahead of them. "That's it."

At the far end of the corridor is a set of double-doors, blank and unremarkable in appearance, yet ominous and threatening at the same time. Poe feels an insidious shiver of memory at the sight, taking a deep breath and reminding himself that **this is not the _Decimator_**.

"Now you're here, as there's not much use I can be… I have to see to one last thing before the ship goes," Mitaka says, with the slightest bow of his head.

"Commander, Lord and Lady Ren, it's been an honour."

"Seriously? You're leaving already?" Tovim rolls his eyes. "Sure."

"But… you can't leave us now," Poe insists. "You're a hero. And you can come _home_."

"I have something I need to do," Mitaka replies, with a thin press of his lips. "But I'll take you up on the offer, afterwards. Before I go…"

He reaches into the pocket of his uniform, and pulls out a small holodisk.

"…You should take this. Intel, for the Resistance." An odd little look. "One problem I can fix."

Poe is about to question what the man means by this, but Mitaka speaks again.

"I must get moving."

"All right," Poe concedes, with a little nod. He worries for Mitaka's safety, but then, this is _Copperwing_ they're talking about. "Just make sure you get off this ship before it goes up."

"Will do, Commander." Mitaka snaps off a brief salute, and then he's gone.

Poe watches the master-spy's retreating back, then stares down at the holodisk, wondering what it contains. Before he can say anything, however, a small contingent of footsteps comes up the other side of the corridor. Finn, with three of his Pathfinders; and Poe pockets the disk, opting to think about it later.

"Poe! You're safe!" 

"Finn!" Poe exclaims, feeling a thrill of delight as he sees the man. "Maker, am I glad you're here."

Finn grabs hold of him in a quick hug, clapping him on the back, and then… "You with Poe?" he asks the twin. 

Daria nods, her demeanour cautious. "Yes," she answers. "I'm Daria. I broke Poe out of prison."

"She did," Poe confirms. "Daria's helping me. She's on our side now, and you can trust her. _Tovim_ , I found wandering the corridors. Figured he'd be more useful here."

Which is as much an affirmation as he'll allow the man.

"What happened to BB-8 and the other droid?"

"Ran off into the sunset to make droid-babies," Tovim answers Finn.

Finn, rightly, does not pay him any attention.

"Carrying out their mission to sabotage the ship," Poe explains, shooting Tovim a sideways look. "They'll meet up with us when they're done."

All of a sudden, Daria lets out a soft little gasp, staggering slightly before she regains her footing. " _Oh_ ," she breathes. "Danika's in there. She's in there, and she's fighting, and… we have to do something. We can't wait any longer."

"You heard her," Tovim crows, sounding excited. "Let's get in there. I want to see what all this fuss is about."

"You three, hold this entrance," Finn orders. "We need to be able to make a getaway at speed. Understand?" 

The Pathfinders agree. "Yes, Sir."

"Don't come inside. We need you out here."

Poe takes a deep breath. He doesn't know what they're going to find on the other side of that door. He doesn't… and he does.

"Let's do this," he says, and leads the three of them – Finn, Daria and Tovim – into the central chamber of the _Successor_.

Inside, a vast, angry red crystal hangs in the dead-centre of the huge room, poised just above what is clearly some sort of firing aperture. Close by, Danika is engaged in a furious-looking lightsabre duel with Kylo and Rey; the air full of swirling light and sparks.

Poe feels like his heart is going to stop. _Kylo. Kylo is here_.

The moment the door opens, Kylo's attention whirls around, and Danika's lighting-storm hits him in the shoulder, staggering him briefly. He barely seems to notice, calling out: "POE!"

Tovim runs in, apparently eager to prove himself, lifting his sabre and slashing through some of the over-shot bolts. "I got you, boss!"

Danika _screams_ in annoyance. "YOU!" And then she sees her sister. "How could you?"

"This has to stop, Danika," Daria insists, summoning all her emotional strength. "You've gone too far. It has to stop. But… it isn't too late. Please. Please just stand down and let me help you."

" _Kylo!_ " Poe calls out. "I–"

But any further words won't come, as he feels the full force – and _Force_ – of the Eye of Chikara slam into his head like a tidal wave. Just looking at the thing makes his whole form burn as though flame was licking across him, but it's nothing compared to the feeling in his mind: a bright, red-hot blaze of coursing _hate_.

Kylo is trying to get to Poe, but Danika lunges after him every time he turns away. Even with Rey and Tovim assisting, she's determined to keep the two of them apart.

And in a sense, it's probably for the best. Kylo doesn't want to admit it, but he has to handle the last Knight of Ren, as he knows through the Force that Jolek is gone, and here is Daria (Asha?) refusing to fight with her sister.

"We need to destroy the crystal," the Knight calls out. "Anyone feel free to do it."

Tovim yelps, "Little busy, here." He's battering away any off-spills of the charging energy the crystal casts off.

"Danika… _Danika_ … stop this, **please**!" Daria all but begs, close to the battle but seemingly not daring to join in, her sabre blazing in her hand nonetheless. It's obvious that she has no idea what to do; caught between the need to help her sister, and the need to stop her.

"Kylo… _kill her_!" Poe yells, then catches himself as he realises what he's said, as he feels that insidious _hate_ creep deeper inside him, making him want to watch Danika Ren die – and Tovim? Why not? – so that he and Kylo can claim the Eye for their own and use it to… to…

_No, no, no_.

Reality seems to flicker, as though the whole vast room was filling with smoke and haze… and that's when Poe realises that _the walls are covered in blood_ …

As the world shifts around them – the red glow of the crystal expanding to cast everything in its ruby-rich light – Danika realises she's seen this place before.

The place inside, the one she glimpsed earlier, with her sister to help her. 

They're no longer aboard the _Successor_ , but on the planet of the Sith: Midwanjontû. Not ruined like she saw it, but proud and tall. The walls swoop and seem to bleed out with a life of their own, and she laughs.

"Don't you see it?" she calls to Daria. "Don't you see we're **home**?" 

The horror in Daria's eyes as she stares around is bright and cold and impossible to miss. "This could never be home," she insists, her voice shaking. "This is _hell_. This… Danika… **Ava** …"

Danika's scream would curdle blood to a solid sludge inside of veins. She flares out with the Force – sending a shockwave from her position as she charges at her twin. "That is **NOT MY NAME**!"

Kylo can see Daria isn't ready to block, and he hurtles himself in to catch the blade, to hold the younger woman's fury in his arms. "Danika, stop. We don't want to have to kill you. The Eye is controlling you."

He can see the blood. He's sure everyone can see the blood, from the expressions on their faces.

Finn, meanwhile, starts to loose off blaster fire at the red crystal, though it does nothing when he does so. 

Daria cries out in horror when Danika goes for her; the sound so raw and terrified, as if all her nightmares just came true at once. Though… in this _place_ … it wouldn't be so hard to believe. She tries to get her sabre up, tries to face her sister down, but she can't, she _can't_ , and it's only Kylo's timely intervention that stops her being cut in half there and then.

On the periphery of it all, surrounded by so much _blood_ , Poe can barely stay upright. He feels like the weight of a thousand worlds is bearing down on him, and – at the same time – he knows how to make it stop; how to make it all stop…

_No, no **no**_.

The vision around them all blurs. The blood-soaked temple goes nowhere, but suddenly it fills with shadowed figures, dozens and dozens of them, all robed in black and armed with lit sabres that burn through the air. Their right arms are all raised towards the Eye, as if in salute; their chests marked with an emblem: the starburst of the First Order, cut through by the old emblem of the Jedi, but inverted. _Subverted_.

They could have it all, Poe knows it. He and Kylo. They could take the Eye, destroy their enemies, bend the First Order to their will, erase the opponents of the Resistance. End all of this, forever.

They could _rule the galaxy_ : Master and Apprentice, as it was always meant to be. Poe may not have the Force, but he has a sabre, and he has the Eye, and he has _Kylo_ …

Kylo feels the pull, feels the call to his blood. He can see the promise that's offered, the image of himself at the head of it all. All the voices whispered through the Eye's facets, all the praise and worship and adulation. No more fear. No more worried, sideways glances. No more 'what if he turns bad' thoughts tripping through minds. 

He could have it all. His stance wavers, but then he sees the manic – furious – and fearful expression on Danika's face. He remembers her looking much the same, but smaller.

Remembers what he did to her, in the name of the Dark Side. And he wishes he never had.

" _No_ ," he growls, and throws Danika off his blade and back. 

"I'm not doing any damage," Finn calls out, his voice shaking.

"Don't think you can with that," Tovim replies.

"We have to make it stop!" Rey shouts, obviously struggling too in the face of the slew of images surrounding them. "There has to be a way!"

But there isn't, is there? The thought thuds through Poe's mind, over and over. There's no way. No way to stop it. No way to win. The sooner they surrender, the sooner they accept the truth, it will all be so much easier, so much simpler, so much clearer, and then they can take the power that's theirs, then they can… they can… they…

**No**.

Poe can see it, now: as if everything has sharpened down to a single moment, a single breath. A bombing run, the target lock reverberating in his head, cutting through the rage and the hate and the mental poison coursing through him, forming a point of absolute clarity.

He understands. He understands how to make this stop. Understands that there is one among them who must be removed, who must be destroyed, who must be cut from the picture once and for all.

It is how it must be. The master struck down, so the apprentice can surpass them.

The combatants pay him little mind as he moves in, too distracted by the ongoing lightsabre-storm to react to his approach, too caught up in what they're doing to realise what's happening until it's too late. Until, with a yell that comes from the depths of his being, Poe Dameron brandishes the sabre in his hand and plunges it deep into its target.

The Eye of Chikara flares blindingly bright as the sabre stabs squarely into one of its facets, buried almost to the hilt under the full force of the attack, and – all around – the illusions start to flicker, wavering, suddenly fighting to stay in place.

" _No more_!" Poe shouts, yanking the sabre free and stabbing it into the Eye a second time. " **No more**!"

He is done being mastered by it. Time to strike it down.

"Rey!" Finn calls out. 

Rey sees what's happened, understanding all at once, and she unhooks the second sabre from her own belt, tossing it over to Finn. "Here!"

Finn catches it, and lights the blade. Unlike the other – almost silver-white one – this one has turned purple through Rey's meditations. It casts a glow across his dark skin as the leader of the Pathfinders (and Knight of Eigengrau) goes to help Poe cut down the Eye.

"Stop it! Stop it! Don't you hurt her!" Danika yells, and she reaches out with the Force to find the bolts of electricity coursing through it. Her own power meets, and arcs out and down as she tries to attack them all.

Kylo holds his sabre in one hand, then flares his own, blue lightning in to fight her golden-red bolts. "It's going to die, Danika. It's going to die. Don't die with it. _Live_. If nothing, you should live, for what I did to you. You shouldn't be punished twice." 

The air goes hot as two blades stab into the Eye in near-unison, only to be yanked out and stabbed in again. Electric shudders rush out through the room; the illusions flickering all the more, as the Eye struggles to fight back.

"Dani… please, please, don't do this," Daria keeps begging, at the periphery of the battle once more, but poised to act again. "We can make things right. We can be free. We can be _safe_."

"You can be _Knights of Eigengrau_ ," Rey cuts in. "You can use the Light Side again, without losing what you've learnt and achieved in the Dark."

"The Light is a _lie_ ," Danika hollers back. She's losing, she knows it. She knows that the three Force-users fighting, and one not-fighting, and two attacking her Eye are more than she can possibly hope to hold out against.

But she'll go down swinging, if she has to. She slices at Rey, a nasty swipe intended to cut her in half. 

Rey manages to block the attack – just about – though it comes so fast she doesn't quite get all of it in time, and Danika's sabre scores against her left shoulder before she's able to push it away. The wound – mercifully – isn't deep, but it still makes the young woman cry out in pain, staggering a little and struggling to increase the distance between them.

Tovim realises there's more than he can hold off, so he flings himself at her, taking Rey's place as Kylo crackles through the electric fire raining down on them.

"Aim for the cracks inside," Finn yells.

Kylo is about to reply when the world flashes out, and he can't remember _where_ he was, but he's standing in an interrogation room, with a man strapped to a chair in front of him. His brow is bloodied, and his expression pained.

There's no connection. No connection. Poe is right in front of him, and he can't – he can't _feel_ him.

"Poe?"

"…Kylo..? What..?"

How did he get here? Poe doesn't know. Why does the man's name trip so easily off his tongue, when they… they only just… he…

…weren't they just on Jakku? Or…

He can _feel_ the red burning at the edges of his mind, but he doesn't know why. Or how.

"The… map…" To the crystal? No. To… to Luke? To Luke Skywalker. "Where is it?" Kylo knows he needs to know, but he isn't wholly sure why it burns like ash in his mouth. His sabre is lit, but that's coincidental as he bears down on Poe Dameron's mind. "Give it to me." 

" _Oh_ ," Poe gasps, as the Force of the other man's will thuds into him. But… it isn't a sound of shock or anger, it's…

…OK, wait, _what_? Is he _enjoying_ it? What the actual fuck is happening right now?

"…I won't give you anything," he says, but there's pleasure behind the words, and he has no idea why.

And no idea why _not_.

"You will _give it to me_ ," Kylo yells, annoyed. The man isn't supposed to **get off** on this, he's supposed to scream in agony. He lets his rage – considerable, unstoppable – batter into him as he slams his head back into the chair from where it's pulled.

"You will give me _everything_. I will destroy your pathetic Resistance, I will **burn it all to the ground and fuck you through the ashes**." 

And enjoy it. Enjoy it so much. He wants to rip the galaxy apart, for all it's done to him. 

Poe's eyes all but roll back at that, and it hurts, and it _hurts_ , and he **likes it** , and this is tripping all the dark little fantasies at the back of his head, the ones he doesn't engage with, the ones he can't stop _wanting_ in the dead of night, and it would be so easy, so easy to just sink under it, to give in to it, to give in to _him_ , and…

…he can still feel the red glow at the edges of reality, as if there's something underneath, something he's missing, something burning like the fires at the core of the galaxy…

"…No," he whispers. "You will give _me_ everything. The map, Starkiller, Skywalker… everything. We will burn the _First Order_ to the ground, and we will do it _together_."

Because they will. Or… they have? Or… they could. Something. Yes.

A hand around his throat, choking out those words. Seeing fanaticism in the dark flashes below, feeling the way the Force coils around him. Connections forming, ties long loose shoring inside the man's core.

Together. This lunatic who leans into the slap, who licks the blood on his lip like a promise, who blazes through the Force with his dark, dark happiness.

The galaxy. Kylo never thought he could take it, not from Snoke.

But he can. He can kill Snoke, and he can _rule in his place_. Eyes wide, he leans in and doesn't know why there's no mask stopping him from kissing and biting the pilot's lips as he brings the cross-guard of his sabre in to kiss a brand high up on his arm, touching it in to claim this one as _his_. 

Poe howls against Kylo's lips, but it's as much in bliss as it is in pain, and he only bucks a little in the restraints as the man takes him like that, and _fuck_ , but he wants this, he _wants_ it so badly, and the agony seems to close a circuit inside him, sending surety and surrender sparking through his blood.

He'd do anything for this man. Anything. Suffer for him, scream for him, live for him, die for him. Anything and everything, and…

…anguished cries in the distance, so far away and yet so close, all at once; cries that resolve into something else: into a little girl dressed in brown, clutching her sister's hand, cowering in the corner of a space once bathed in light, and now drenched in blood. Hot ozone and fresh copper fills the air, spreading out into silence that was, so recently, something else entirely.

Asha Jain grips her sister's hand even tighter, choking back a tiny sob. "Ava… Ava… what do we do?" she whispers, hardly able to get the words out.

Ava doesn't know. She doesn't know. The Masters – the teachers – they're all… they're supposed to show them what to do. Since they took them in, it's made sense. They've had people to show them, to guide them, to teach them, to protect them.

It's been better. It's not been scary, not really. Not when they learned to trust them, and now…

She clutches Asha's hand harder, setting her little jaw. She's the oldest. It's her job to protect Asha. She has to make sure her sister gets through this, whatever it is. No matter the cost.

Ahead of them, there's one figure still standing. He isn't fighting anyone, now, but something tells her the dead at his feet are all his doing. Adults and children and everything between. Everyone but Master Luke, who isn't anywhere to be seen.

"Ben will know," Ava says, trying to make it sound like she believes it. "Ben is strong." 

"Will he save us?" Asha whispers, shaking so hard it's as if she has a fever, or has just climbed out of icy water. "Will he make us safe? Or… or… what if he… _whatifhekillsustoo_?"

He might. He might kill them, too.

But what do they do, if he doesn't? Is Master Luke still alive? Will he come and save them? Will they be here, left alone, to starve? Will they die surrounded by bloated, sweating, decomposing friends?

Ava does not want to find out. "He will help us," she insists, and tugs her sister into place behind her, as she approaches the boy with big ears.

"Ben?"

The boy turns towards her. He has a sabre lit in his hand, and he tilts his head. "Ava?" 

"Help us?"

Her voice is so very quiet, terrified of the anger and Darkness on his face. 

She looks down. That's not right… the sabre never went through her, did it? It doesn't even hurt to begin with. It's too bright and hotcold to feel, and she worries that means that-- "Asha?"

" _ **Ava**_!" her sister screams.

And the whole world judders, flickering red and white, as if someone just cut the power to reality itself, only to slam it on again seconds later. The room resolves back into what it is: into a wide, grey chamber aboard a Star Destroyer; the blood-streaked walls and chanting acolytes long vanished, along with the new illusions that crept in in their wake.

At the far end of the chamber, where the controls for the systems linking the Eye to the _Successor_ are located, HK-47 shoots the panel a second time for good measure, BB-8 bleeping in alarmed encouragement at his heels.

"Resigned statement: _Must_ I do everything myself?" the taller droid deadpans.

The Eye of Chikara flickers from within, as though fighting the loss of its connection to the ship, struggling to regain its power, filling the air with unnatural red shadows.

Finn blinks his eyes clear of the image, seeing Poe turned away, his sabre crackling. He looks at his own, and at Rey, and at the Eye.

Danika looks at her sister, Daria. _Asha_. Looks at her, and reaches a hand out. "I wanted to protect you," she whispers. "I wanted to keep you safe."

Kylo looks down, seeing the blade that vanishes into the woman's side. 

All the way in. It's the kind of wound you just don't heal from. "I'm sorry," he says, and turns Darth Vader's lightsabre off. 

" _Danika_!" Daria yells, the illusion gone, the reality intruding like the cold, harsh light of an unwelcome day. "Danika, **no**!"

She's there in time to catch her sister as she falls, dropping to her knees and cradling Danika in her arms, rocking them both a little. "Danika, Danika, don't do this, don't leave me… _someone do something_!"

Her voice is borderline hysterical, the air around her almost crackling in anguish as she presses a hand to the very much fatal wound in her sister's chest, eyes filling with tears. "Dani… I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

"I just… I wanted to protect you," Danika says, her voice getting faint. There's still no pain, and she's glad of that. She isn't sure why it doesn't hurt, but she lifts a hand to touch her twin's face. "Please… keep going. For me. Please."

Kylo wants to go to her, but he can't. He did this. He did this to them both, from the very start. He killed them – killed the girls they were – and now the woman one's become. He falls back onto a panel, floored by the weight of it.

"I'd do it again," Danika says, as her eyes close. "For you." And then she's gone. 

"…Ava?" Daria whispers, in a tiny, tiny voice. "Ava… d-don't… don't…"

But it's too late. Maybe it has always been too late.

For a moment, there is nothing: nothing but two twins bathed in flickering red light; one here, one gone, and then Daria Ren looks up, her face streaked with tears, her world broken.

"Kill me too," she pleads, and no one could doubt that she means every word. "Kylo… _Ben_ … kill me too."

"No," he whispers, his own face wet. "She wanted you to keep going, Asha." He walks over, and bends to scoop his arms around her. "She died, trying to do what she thought would keep you safe." 

Daria – _Asha_ – tries weakly to push him off, desperately struggling to keep hold of her sister. "She got herself killed," the remaining twin whispers. "She got herself killed and I couldn't stop it."

"You can go on," Rey insists, taking a step closer, almost as if she wants to put a hand on the other woman's shoulder but doesn't quite dare. "You can do what she couldn't. Come with us."

Kylo pulls Daria, despite her protests, into his chest. Tucks his head over hers, and looks sadly up at Poe for some reassurance of his own. 

Finn glances to the droids. "What did you even do?" 

HK-47 gives a mechanical sigh. "I broke it," he says, flatly. And perhaps just a little proudly. "Explanatory: The crystal is being artificially charged by the power systems within this ship. It was moments away from firing, which would have done unspeakably unpleasant things to all your fragile little starfighters out there. So I… _bypassed_ the firing systems. All it can do now is draw in more and more energy until it overloads completely. At which point… _boom_. Jubilant aside: _large_ boom."

BB-8 bleeps a few times in cautious agreement, adding something about having already taken down the _Successor's_ shields, and there not being much time left.

"We gotta get out of here," Poe manages. His mind has sort of shut down in the face of what's just happened – to say nothing of snapping out of _whatever_ that last illusion was – and right now he's just glossing over it all, in order to survive.

The weight will hit later. And hard.

"The short pilot is correct," HK-47 concurs. "The crystal will overload in very little time. We must run."

"Is anyone incapable of running?" Kylo asks. "Finn, can you order the boarding troops to evacuate?"

"I'm able," Tovim pipes up, cheerily. "And surprisingly not dead."

Kylo rolls his eyes. "Well done."

"Right on it…" Finn says, opening the door to tell the first troops and order the message relayed. 

"I… I can't leave her," Daria whispers. "I can't… I…"

"You have to," Poe says, softly. "We have to go now, or we won't get off this ship in time. And… _Asha_ … your sister wouldn't want you to die needlessly. Whatever else she was… she would never want that. Come with us. It doesn't mean you have to _stay_ with us. It just means you don't have to die here, for nothing."

For a moment, it looks like Daria is going to refuse, and then she nods. "All right," she whispers. "All right…"

And she turns back to her sister, one last time, reaching to take her sabre-hilt, clipping it to her belt, beside her own. "I'm so sorry, Ava," she murmurs. "I'm so sorry."

Kylo can't let go of her, not in case she changes her mind. His fingers keep reaching out to reassure him, guiding her towards the door. He looks over to Poe.

_I'm so glad to see you._ It's not for anyone else to hear, and they'll have time for a real reunion once they're back on the _Phoenix_. 

_I know. I love you_ , Poe sends back, but it's all he can manage. They're about to win this for sure and it still feels like they just lost.

So they run, leaving the body of Danika Ren in their wake, bathed in the pulsating, angry light of the Eye of Chikara, as it builds and builds towards inevitable annihilation.

One way or another, this is about to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...So. Yes. That happened.
> 
> In order to cheer you up, and because we love the chance to share beautiful art that people have drawn for us, (in this case for Shadow Side's birthday, on commission from Davechicken), take a look at this:
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> All credit to the very talented @Omega-Hux!
> 
> Join us next week for the end of this sequence, and the start of the fall-out. And for one last, crucial showdown...


	36. Rain & Flame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, readers. This week, we wrap-up the _Successor_ sequence and begin the aftermath, which may or may not start with a little something you've missed..! ;-)
> 
> First, though, this. A final showdown, a final reveal. You might want to remind yourself of our fic's main warnings in advance. And, y'know, some of you might need these... *offers liquor and hugs and maybe a fluffy blanket*

General Alek Hux is having a bad day.

The worst day, in fact. Worse than the day the _Decimator_ was destroyed. Worse than the loss of Starkiller Base.

He knows it's all over when the firing systems for the superweapon – powered by the Eye of Chikara – go completely haywire. He has no idea why, but the officer in charge of the weapons' station says it's due to 'a problem on the other end'.

Which can only mean Kylo fucking not-Ren, and his band of Resistance scum. They've sabotaged his ship, sabotaged his weapon, and suddenly everything starts to destabilise, and Hux realises just how bad this is.

"I can't get control of it, Sir," the weapons' officer insists. "The thing is just drawing more and more power with nowhere to channel it."

"Meaning?" Hux snaps.

"Meaning we're likely looking at a catastrophic explosion," the officer states, flatly. "We need to sound the evacuation alarms. Get everyone off the ship."

"And what? Have them blown out of the sky by those Resistance dogs out there?" Hux throws back.

"They can't kill us all at once. Some of us will get through."

Yes, Hux thinks. Some of us. _Me_.

He's always been one of life's survivors, he muses, as he leaves the bridge and makes for the smaller hangar bay where his shuttle – the _Commandant_ – is located. It will be quiet there, with no other ships to get in his way, and he can make a break for it without risking running into the Resistance boarding parties, who are no doubt on their way back to their own ships in the main hangar.

Hux hopes they don't get there in time. Hopes their own hubris leaves them trapped on the _Successor_ as it goes down. It would be a small victory, but a welcome one.

He remembers the last time he had to do this: racing for his ship on Starkiller Base, trying to hide the fact that Kylo had hit him in the face not long before. Trying to summon up some dignity despite being covered in his own blood, sporting an obviously broken nose.

The Bacta treatments to repair it had taken days. He spent every moment imagining different ways to torture Kylo to death.

No doubt he'll need some of those images on the long flight back to the _Finalizer_.

Hux makes it to the hangar bay, where the _Commandant_ is waiting for him. No one else is around, but he's more than capable of flying it himself, and in all honesty he would rather be alone. The last thing he wants is to have to sit in awkward silence around some Stormtrooper who happened to be here.

He supposes he'd be happy enough if it were Phasma and wonders, not entirely idly, if the Captain will make it off the ship in time.

Hux hopes so. There are very few people with Phasma's level of competence. He'd rather get to keep her around.

Wasting no time, Hux hurries up into the _Commandant_ , slamming the button to close the rear hatch. He's not about to risk having any unexpected passengers, though, and quickly checks the shuttle's few rooms to make sure no one else is lurking inside.

Empty. Perfect.

The General reaches the cockpit and slips into the pilot's seat, starting to power the ship up. His hands work quickly, and before long the _Commandant_ gives a little shudder as the engines engage, and the ship starts to lift slowly off the deckplates.

All too easy. All too–

There's a sudden, metallic clang and a rough hiss, and Hux curses out loud as he feels _something_ slam into the back of the ship. Alarms start to go off, indicating that the structural integrity of the shuttle has been compromised, and Hux swears again, struggling to keep from losing control – of the _Commandant_ or himself – as several more deeply alarming and wholly unwelcome sounds come from the direction of the rear hatch, and…

…that last sound is unmistakeable. A lightsabre. A fucking _lightsabre_.

Well, fuck. So they're doing this now, then? Fine. _Fine_. Hux cuts the engines, letting the ship drop roughly back onto the deckplates of the hangar bay, certain that he knows where this is going.

Kylo not-Ren has come to kill him, and there's no way Hux is letting that happen. He draws his sidearm, moving closer to the cockpit door. How many blaster-bolts can the accursed _Sith_ stop before he's overwhelmed?

Time to find out.

The door swoops open, and a red-bladed sabre illuminates a man. A man in First Order grey. A man who has a blaster in his other hand, and who looks like he's battled his way across half the ship to get here.

"The Resistance would like to send _its_ regards," says Dopheld Mitaka. 

"Mitaka?" Hux exclaims, a second of relief followed by a longer moment of icy realisation. "What the fuck are you doing with a _lightsabre_?"

Some part of him knows his mind isn't engaging with what's really happening here, but the shock is so great that he isn't processing it all at once.

"I had to conceal myself," Mitaka shrugs. "Never got one of these before. Handy, aren't they?" He nods at the hole in the hull, behind him. 

"All this time, I've been a sleeper agent. Listening to your venom… and not even the Supreme Leader knew. No one did." 

He's proud of that, and it shows. But he's come here for one reason, and he doesn't telegraph the move as he steps forwards, intent on ending the General on his stolen sabre. 

For a moment, Hux is sure all of this is some sick, sick joke. Some sick joke for which Mitaka will nonetheless pay deeply. But… no. No. There's only one explanation.

Dopheld Mitaka is Copperwing.

He has to be. And Hux never suspected. Never guessed. Never realised.

Somehow, that part stings as badly as the betrayal.

But it doesn't sting as badly as the lightsabre blade that punches through his chest, before Hux can even attempt to fire a shot off. His whole body jolts in shock as he's impaled on the red blade, blinking at Mitaka in a mixture of horror and… satisfaction.

"The Order will fall," Mitaka says, twisting the hilt, trying to make it hurt? Or faster? Or both? "Your crystal will destroy this ship. There is no one left to carry on the torch, I've made sure of that." 

"At least I have the satisfaction of _taking you with me_ ," Hux hisses, with all the strength he has left… and he gives a twist on a hilt of his own. The hilt of the vibroblade he's just driven into Mitaka's stomach.

Mitaka should have seen that coming. He was there, when the man killed his own mother. His pride, and the relief of being himself… He grunts, and slices up with the sabre as he falls back and away. "It's worth the price, to see you die. To know I won." 

Hand over the wound, not lifting to look at the blood. Why? It won't help. Maybe if he could make it to a medic in time, but… the wound is deep, and he's losing blood fast. Mitaka reaches for his comm device, pulling it free…

And that's the last Hux sees of him, as he falls back, hitting the deckplates, now looking at nothing but grey metal overhead. The world is going hazy at the edges; a slow, insidious seep of unreality and whatever-comes-next, creeping in, rising up, cutting him off from the pain, from the rage, from the _defeat_.

Everything is cold. Cold, like early morning on Arkanis.

Arkanis. The only place that was ever truly home. The only place, besides the bridge of a Star Destroyer, that he ever belonged. A place lost a long time ago.

And far, far away.

Alek Hux hears the distant rain, and closes his eyes.

***

By the time the Resistance band make it to the main hangar bay, everything is chaos. Ships are launching without thought for anyone else, as the First Order troops try to flee the _Successor_ before it explodes.

The majority of the Pathfinders are here already, piling onto the _Scion_ , and the last few arrive in time to hurry aboard along with Finn and Rey, who insists on going with him, leaving Kylo, Poe, Tovim, Daria and the two droids to race into the _Phoenix_.

It's Poe who drops into the pilot's seat, starting the pre-flight warm-up at once. "Everyone hold tight," he says. "We gotta…"

_…don't think, don't think, don't think, just focus…_

"…we gotta get out of here before it blows."

And before I pass out in front of people. Important not to pass out in front of people. In fact, best not to pass out at all. Or think.

Don't think.

" _Phoenix_ , this is _Scion_ ," comes Rey's voice. "We have to go now!"

"Copy, _Scion_. Take point. I've got your six."

By the time Poe is seated, it's much too late for Kylo to argue about it. Instead, he nods at HK. "Take the co-pilot's seat, please." 

The droid acquiesces with a nod, and gets something of a look from Poe when he does.

"I've got this," the pilot insists. He still doesn't know where things stand with the droid. Kylo clearly trusts him enough to have him around, and Poe knows he was Revan's, but he seems… less than friendly.

"It is a marvel to me that you 'have' anything right now," HK-47 replies. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather turn over control of the ship to me?"

"Completely sure. Now shush. I'm _concentrating_ …"

The _Phoenix_ hurtles forwards at that, close behind the _Scion_ ; both ships bursting out of the _Successor's_ hangar bay seconds before a burst of flame licks through the deckplates behind them.

"It's going up!" Poe shouts. Something makes him smack the radio, even though he knows full-well that the other pilots are _more_ than capable of doing this without him. " _Everyone get clear_!"

Maybe it's instinct. Maybe it's panic. Maybe a little of both.

And, as the Resistance ships scatter out of reach, fire and red light starts to rip through the whole body of the _Successor_ , tearing it apart in a bright, near-blinding burst, leaving nothing but debris and memory in its wake.

It's gone. The Eye of Chikara is _gone_.

The relief is a palpable wave, like the galaxy suddenly brighter. Like some of the shadows are less keen. Kylo feels the snap like a break in his chest, and he holds onto the back of Poe's chair to keep from falling over.

"It's done," Tovim says, sounding shaken. "We… really did it?"

"We did," Kylo agrees.

"We did," Poe manages, like he isn't quite here. Not at all certain he is.

It's at this point that the radio nigh-on explodes with shouting, as several of the pilots try to talk at once, their voices a mixture of ecstatic and frantic.

"Was that Poe?!"

"Black Leader, you there?!"

" _Dameron, you son of a bitch!_ "

"I'm here," Poe replies. "I'm here. Tell you all about it when we get… wherever we're going."

Where even _are_ they going?

He glances at HK-47, distantly glad that he at least doesn't have to say this next line to Tovim.

"Would you take over, please?"

And then he all but falls sideways, his grip on the world going at once.

Kylo grabs hold of him before he hits the ground, arms below his pilot as he scoops him to his chest. "Get us home," he hisses, and takes Poe back and out of the cockpit. 

HK-47 is already engaging the hyperdrive, and he nods. "Way ahead of you, master."

And, in a burst of light, the Resistance ships all race forward into hyperspace.

***

Kylo carries Poe into the master bedroom, holding him tight, all the way there. He sits down with his pilot still in his arms, kissing his forehead. "Poe… stay with me. I've got you. You're safe. It's okay, now. I promise."

Poe isn't thinking straight. Isn't seeing straight. He's been acting on survival instinct to keep himself going, but his mind has finally got as far as processing that _he **actually** survived_ , and then it's gone into lockdown.

"I fucked up," he manages, the storm of thoughts that's been poisoning him for days suddenly breaking all at once. "Kylo… I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"You didn't," Kylo insists, holding him even tighter, reaching out for his mind with his own. "You didn't." He kisses at his temple, at his cheek, legs trailing over his as he envelops him from below. 

"It was the Eye, and we got you back. We got you back, Poe." 

"I had… had a piece of it," Poe admits, and the words still burn him, as harsh and as hot as the moment he first realised what had happened. "One of the shards from Chikara. I had it on me… all the time… and I didn't know. It… it made me…"

Made me hate, made me angry, made me push everyone away, made me want to do _anything_ to win.

"… _I'm so sorry_."

"It wasn't _you_. Didn't you tell me that, after… after Snoke? After what happened to me? It wasn't _you_. Please. No one blames you, not one bit." If anything, Kylo thinks, he had even less of a crime to answer for, because he himself had made some decisions. Poe… less so. 

Some part of Poe is slowly processing the logic in what Kylo is saying. It doesn't switch off the other things he's feeling: not the guilt, nor the regret, but it does offer him something besides them. He pushes up, wrapping his arms around Kylo's shoulders, burying his face in the other man's neck.

He's alive. Fuck. He's alive. He's holding on as tight as he can, so tight it makes everywhere that doesn't hurt, hurt, and everywhere that _does_ hurt, hurt more.

But it doesn't matter. He's alive. He got out of that hell, and Kylo has him and _they won_.

"We're going home," Kylo tells his pilot. "We're going home. You're going to be fine. We won, Poe. We destroyed the Eye. We destroyed the _Successor_. You and Finn, and HK and BB-8. You did it. Remember?"

Because he hadn't. He'd been busy murdering Danika Ren. 

Which he can't think about, right now. Nor can he think about her sister, traumatised in a corner of this ship. 

"…Wasn't me. I just survived. Had to survive. Had to tell you…"

Poe's mind goes hazy again, as the adrenaline come-down hits and he starts to become more and more aware of just how much pain he's in. Of _why_ he is in that much pain.

"…she nearly ripped me in half, Kylo… but I protected the base… as long as I could…"

"…you…" Kylo jolts. How could he have been so stupid? "You're hurt? You-- why didn't you tell me?" 

His voice is utterly distraught, and he grabs Poe's face to turn it towards him. "Where? What… what treatment have you had?" 

"Daria… she broke me out… did something with the Force," Poe says. "Healed the worst of it. Danika… took her lightsabre to my chest. Probably would have killed me if Daria didn't intervene…"

And it hurts. Fuck, it hurts. Especially with no more life-or-death peril to take his mind off it.

"Can I take your shirt off?" Kylo asks. Not for prudery reasons, but for straightforward medical ones. He's not seeing any real blood through the shirt, but if it was a lightsabre, it'll be cauterised by now. 

"No Bacta, no pain meds yet?" 

Poe shakes his head. "No time. We had to run. My shirt was wrecked but Daria… she brought me this one. Less conspicuous." He blinks down at it. "Black, too. Apt."

He never wears all-black, but he is now. And, in a way, it is. Apt.

"Not sure I want to see. But… yes. Take it off."

He lifts his arms to help, letting Kylo pull the shirt free, and then… OK, he really _doesn't_ want to see. Poe closes his eyes, now graphically aware of the state he's in.

Kylo is aware that he should be positive. That he shouldn't react in a way that makes Poe feel less safe, or secure. But it's hard not to wince at the streaks across his torso. 

"I need to get some Bacta on you… hang on. It's… it looks worse than it is, I swear." 

"Really?" Poe says, in what is meant at an attempt at deadpan and comes out closer to vaguely terrified. "Because it feels pretty bad."

He'd been so sure Danika was going to kill him. So very sure. It wasn't even that long ago – maybe an hour or two at most – but somehow it feels more distant. Like his mind is pushing the memories back, so he doesn't have to engage with them.

It's a familiar and unwelcome experience.

"I don't think she got to any vital organs, and if so… it's going to just be soft tissue damage: skin, muscle. I'll need to do scans to be sure…" 

Kylo grabs the med kit from the side of the room, then breaks open a hypo of pain meds. He waits for the slight nod before shunting it straight in to Poe's good side, and then pulls open the Bacta wraps and gels. 

"You'll have some interesting scars, though."

"Yeah… I figured as much," Poe says, a little numbly. He already does. But these won't be welcome ones, and the memories attached to them won't be welcome either.

He drops his head back, closing his eyes again, trying to push back the thoughts. Trying to focus on the pain, even though it's _bad_ pain, because the pain is simple, and everything else is far less so.

Kylo takes one hand in his, holding firmly as he starts the work of laving on the gel and sealing the tape around the wounds. "You'll look even more dashing," he says, trying to keep his voice upbeat.

"Imagine it. You, how many Darksiders have you defeated now? You did better even than Luke Skywalker."

Poe manages a rough, if pained laugh. "Hardly. I don't so much do the defeating as the _facilitating_ of the defeat. Apart from the _Decimator_. I'm taking the points for that one. Although I did…"

He hits a mental wall and falls silent for a moment, before adding – more quietly – "…I was the one who killed Jolek. We ran into him, on the way to the crystal chamber, and he… he went for Tovim. And Tovim was losing. So I… intervened."

"…are you okay with that?" Kylo asks. He knows Jolek had to go down, but even people who need to go down… it can be difficult to deal with it. Especially if it was up close and personal. 

"You know he would have killed you, don't you?" And death would be the least of the things.

"Yes," Poe says, softly. "And yes, I'm OK with it. I mean… I've killed plenty of people, but never like _that_. I had to use the lightsabre. But… I don't regret that I did it. I just regret that I had to."

Because you wanted to save them. And he knows the other two – Fayed and Meryth – are dead mostly because of him, too. Because of what happened on Onderon.

"He made his choice. He made it, over and over." As had Danika – Ava – whichever name you want to call her by. Kylo can keep repeating this to himself, but it doesn't feel like it has quite hit, yet.

The bandaging done, Kylo climbs onto the bed beside Poe, tugging him to lie slightly on his chest. "I'm sorry. I should have taken better care of you. I should have known."

Poe lets himself be pulled in, but it isn't easy, because part of him still feels so very _wrong_. "Kylo. None of this is your fault. It's mine. I'm the one who lost control. The one who got himself captured. I put _everyone_ in danger. I got people killed. I…"

He wants to pull away, now, but he aches so much that he can't summon up the energy for it. "…I'm the one who should be sorry. And I am."

A hand moves to stroke over his forehead, into his hair, and lips nudge the side of his face. "It was the Eye. It had millennia of Dark Side adepts pour their hate into it. It affected us _all_. You were not to blame for what it made you do." 

"I know." Poe does. Logically, rationally. He does. But his mind is not really doing 'logical' or 'rational' right now. "That isn't how it feels, though."

He presses in closer, face almost buried in the crook of Kylo's neck. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"If you don't blame me for Snoke, then you should know I don't blame you for what you did. Which – I have to say – was really much tamer." It's an attempt to lighten the mood, and Kylo soothes his hands over his husband, just getting him used to being touched again.

Oh, he's missed him. The smell of his hair, the feel of his skin, the heat in his arms. It hurts to be so close and feel his pain. "I drove everyone crazy… oh! You should know… my mother is fine."

"She… _fuck_." Poe hasn't even thought to ask about Leia yet, and the guilt burns at him. "I should have asked. I'm sorry. I… fuck. I missed so much. Leia… and what happened to the base… and Revan's droid… and Tovim following you around, and…"

"…Oh. Copperwing's alive. Or, he was. I don't know if he still is. I don't know if he got off the _Successor_ in time."

"He sent the message! Poe… he told us where to find you! I need to thank him! Who is he? I'll call through the ships to see if he's aboard any of them!"

For once, some good news. Other than the Eye, the _Successor_ and the most important thing: Poe. 

"You know, I never asked him his real name," Poe answers. "But… oh. Daria knows him. She called him Mitaka. He was the guy with Hux, on Onderon."

"Mitaka… That scrawny little nerd?" Kylo whistles through his teeth. "He was Hux's right-hand man, you know. He had access to _everything_." No wonder their intel had been so good. 

"I guessed as much," Poe replies. "He must have been able to drip-feed the right information to the right sides whenever he wanted. He was with us for a while, but he left just before we got to you. He said… he had something he needed to do."

"Hux," Kylo says. He knows it, suddenly. Deep down inside. That's where he'd gone. "He wanted to make sure he went down with his ship."

He hopes so. He owes Hux a world of pain if he didn't. 

"We might get lucky on that one. Looks like Copperwing never misses. Even survived his own supposed death."

And Poe would not shed a tear if someone took Hux out. He hasn't forgotten what the man did to his own mother. And to…

"So… Leia is going to be OK? You got her back to Tahanan in time? And… is the base even still _on_ Tahanan?"

Poe's mind is racing, and he realises he should probably try to slow it down, but he can't. Partly because the other thoughts will creep back in, if he does.

"We relocated," Kylo says, sadly. "Couldn't be sure… but yes, she's okay. A little wobbly on her feet, but that's not stopping her. So don't worry on that front. She'll be delighted to see you back – everyone will."

Mostly him, but other people almost as much. 

And of course Poe wants to see them all. Of course he does. He wants to see his dad, and Leia (and Han), and he wants to see his pilots; wants that glorious moment when they all leap on each other after the battle and are so happy to be alive. He wants to sit and talk with Rey and Finn; wants to watch BB-8 whirl around and bump against him and celebrate having taken down _another_ Star Destroyer from within.

But… he wants nothing more than he wants Kylo.

"I missed you so much," he whispers, the words catching in his throat, the emotion suddenly flaring again.

Kylo could answer, but instead he holds Poe's jaw. Holds it, and holds it still for his lips to say it against his pilot's own. He's not looking to stir anything other than comfort and love, and he slips his tongue deep inside, flicking at the taste of him, re-memorising it.

_I missed you so much I thought I'd gone insane, pilot._

Poe just melts under Kylo's touch, closing his eyes, needing him, needing him so very badly. He parts his lips further, letting Kylo in, wanting to lose himself in this forever… and then feeling a jolt of shock, just for a second, when he remembers a half-forgotten dream, and wonders if all this is just his fevered mind playing tricks on him, and he's about to wake up in that interrogation room again, and…

 _…I missed you so much I think I **did**_.

Both hands on his face, and Kylo breaks from his lips, sliding them together as he shakes his head. "No. No, you didn't. This is real… can… can I show you?"

He doesn't know – fully – what Poe went through. But he knows enough. 

" _Anything_ , Kylo," Poe murmurs. "You don't have to ask."

"I know. But I still will." Maybe not always, but when he feels he should.

Hand around the back of Poe's neck, Kylo slides into his mind very gently at first, then starts to push harder. "What they did to you… is nothing. It is nothing to the bond we share. Is it? It is nothing to how deep in you I have already gone…" 

" _Oh_ ," Poe breathes, and that touch in his mind is rapture, pure and simple; like water in the desert, light in the darkness, air on the brink of hypoxia. "No. No. Nothing like that. It couldn't even come close. Nothing could. _Only you_."

"You remember… the first time. That's why it showed that to us. Because it knew it was the most important time in both our lives…" He can feel the flickers of it, still, and he rides the echoed memory of how pushing his consciousness inside of Poe's head had felt.

And then does so, without any holding back. Full, flat-out into his skull, holding him harder to his chest and shaking slightly from the feel of the Bond tightening sharply around them both. "Poe…" 

The pilot doesn't resist in the slightest. He lets the other man go as deep as he wants, eyes rolling back at the way it feels. At the sensation of him, of his _power_ , sliding in, pushing out every last trace of anything else. Any _one_ else.

Taking him. Taking him _back_.

" _Kylo_ …"

"I love you," Kylo whispers. He's barely aware of the room around them, and he drags his attention lower. "I _want_ you."

There's people here. It's a big ship. Poe is injured. Poe is right here. It's a delicious torture, and he can't help but rake his intentions through Poe's body, wanting that reassurance, that bond and comfort. He doesn't _need_ sex. Not to the point he couldn't resist it, but he _has_ missed him. For so very, very long. 

The other man's words are everything. _Everything_. Better than water in the desert or light in the darkness. Poe stares up at Kylo, his eyes dark and pleasure-shot and full of hope and – for once – he isn't even doing it deliberately.

"Please," he whispers. _Begs_. "I'm yours. You know I'll do _anything_ you say."

It isn't wrong to want this, or to need it. Isn't wrong to crave his husband's touch when it feels like an age since they were last this close – and even more so, maybe, because of how long he was under the influence of the Eye. In fact, Poe can't even remember the last time things felt so _clear_ , and that's despite the fact he's confident that he's at least mildly delirious right now.

Which says a lot. Or everything.

He has to be careful. Poe's injured, and he can't make it worse. Instead, he pulls him carefully, lifting him up and onto his lap, properly. A hand on his waist, the other stroking over the front of his pants. Ginger touches to start with, the heel stroking firm, slow circles. 

"I missed you in my bed, in my arms, in my dreams. It wasn't life without you, Poe. It was hell. I'm so sorry it took me so long to bring you back, but I won't let you leave me again." 

Even the light touches make Poe's eyes flicker, and he leans in closer, hands on Kylo's face, not looking away. "I'm sorry I gave in to that thing. Sorry I let it pull me apart from you. I…"

The guilt is still burning at him, bright and hot and awful, and even though – rationally – he knows it was out of his control, it's still not how it _feels_.

"You didn't. You didn't. You were you, just… troubled," Kylo insists. He starts to pluck at his buckle, prises the layers open. Slips his fingers under the fabric, stroking Poe through his underwear. He feels for the shape of him, hefting his cock in his hand. 

"You are not to blame. No one will blame you. But you will feel bad for a long time, and then feel bad about feeling bad. But try to remember how you feel for me, and know we feel like that for you, too." 

" _Oh_ ," Poe murmurs, again, and even such a simple touch feels strong enough to drive him out of his mind right now. "Please. Please, I…" He presses forward, resting his forehead against Kylo's, wishing his heart wasn't racing so hard. "I need you. Need to be _yours_."

It's driving him insane, this sudden flare of _craving_ , counterbalanced against the guilt that won't fade, and he stares pleadingly at Kylo, silently begging him to make it right.

"You _are_ mine," he reminds him, pulling his husband's cock from the fabric, stroking it out over his belly. His huge hand engulfs him, twisting and twirling as he strokes him dry, and hard. Thumb over the crown, circles there that echo the ones kissed around in a pattern on his throat. "All mine. I'll make you feel good, again. I'll remind you what you missed." 

It's possible it's not the most approved method of therapy, but it's always worked for them. He wraps the other arm across Poe's chest, holding him still as he works over his dick with unerring drive. "I'm going to reclaim you, inch by inch. Bring you back home. Make you feel _safe_ again." 

" _Please_ ," Poe says, the words alone making pleasure thrill through him, just from how badly he needs to hear them. "I need you to. I'll do anything. Whatever you ask."

He drops his head back as the pleasure starts to build, gasping in need – and appreciation – as he starts to lose himself in the feeling, in the attention, and in the slow realisation that all his fears about their reunion _aren't_ coming true.

The hand around his chest slides up, the palm spread wide, trailing heat in its wake. He curls up and over his throat, feeling the breath and swallowing making him spread there. Kylo holds his head back, against his shoulder, and allows the faintest scrape of nails under the flare of his cockhead, teasing over the pulse of a vein.

"Going to make you come for me, then I'm going to stuff your own spill into you. Make you sit still as I bore you open with just my fingers, and then I'm going to drop you down on my cock. Going to slam you over and over onto my dick, until you're begging for me to stop, and then I'm going to do it _harder_ , until you think you're coming again, but it will only be the start…" 

Poe's whole world goes hazy at that, and he feels like he's going to come there and then. " _Fuck_ ," he breathes. "Yes. Please. I need you to. I need _you_. I… _I thought I'd never see you again_."

He did. And the lingering traces of that feeling still burn deep inside, and he wants them gone. He's here. He's safe. They won. _Again_.

"Well, you did," Kylo points out. "If Snoke couldn't keep us apart, no one else ever would, not for long." A pulse of lust spike pushed into his fingers, and he slaps so hard Poe's balls bounce under the contact. 

He drops his mouth to Poe's neck, sinking his teeth in with a growl as he suckles hard enough to stain his throat with blood. 

" _Oh fuck yes_!" Poe cries, unable to stop himself screaming at that and hoping – vaguely – that the walls of the shuttle are thick. "Kylo, **please**!"

Because fuck, he likes that. And needs it. He feels like his blood is on fire, and only Kylo's touch will sate it… or stoke it higher. Maybe both at once. His arms go up to hold on, as tight as he dares without getting in the way, and he bucks into the contact, craving _more_.

 _Mine_ , comes the mental growl. _Only mine_.

His mouth doesn't let up, making Poe's sienna purple-red and obvious, no matter how high the neckline he might wear. Kylo doesn't care right now, and he starts to tighten the hand on his throat, choking out the air, making his head swim as he beats his dick harder still.

If there is lube, it's far away, and Kylo doesn't want to wait. He wants to push Poe's own ejaculate back in him, to fuck him almost raw. He wants him so badly, but he has to get him ready, first. 

_Come for me, my pilot_. 

And Poe screams, raw and undone, falling apart under Kylo's hands. He couldn't fight it if he tried – nor would he want to – and it feels beyond amazing to just give in to the sensation, to cry out again as pleasure rips through him, and he's coming and coming in his lover's grip.

" **Fuckyes**!" is the only coherent part he manages, though the bliss and release is obvious in every last sound he makes. His hips jerk up into the attention, chasing every last touch, until the moment finally passes and he sways in Kylo's grasp, staring hazily at him.

Kylo smiles, once Poe's spent, feeling some of the tension bleed out of him along with the spunk his palm has caught. He nuzzles the bruise to his skin, then kisses up to the corner of his mouth. "You're so very, very beautiful, you know? You're the most beautiful creature the Force ever made." 

"I am for you," Poe murmurs, closing his eyes, just letting himself feel for a moment. Just letting himself enjoy all this, that he's missed so badly. "And… _please_ … take what you need from me. I'm yours. All of me is yours."

"I know… but the sooner we start, the sooner it's over," Kylo admits. "Put your arms above your head, around my shoulders. Bend one knee…"

As Poe obliges, he shifts them slightly, using the Force to help shimmy Poe's pants down to his knees. A sticky finger edges around his hole, stroking slow circles. "Going to make you feel it all day. So you know you're home, know you're mine, and that I love you more than anything. Anything…"

" _Yes_ ," Poe gasps, rapt. "Please, Kylo. I need you, need you deep inside me, where you belong. Need you to take, take me, take _everything_."

Because it's yours. No one else's. _Yours_. And, even sated, Poe still _needs_ with everything he is: a different need, not mere physical pleasure, but something much more complex. Something that can't be denied; something that defines him. He belongs to this man and he needs to have it proven to him over and over, not because he doesn't believe it, but because the proof itself is _everything_.

Kylo's middle finger pushes in, bends, and starts the slow process of fucking him wider. He knows Poe can take a lot more, a lot faster. Knows, and wants to coast him on the edge of wanting for as long as possible. He pulls his head around, attacking his lower lip. Teeth pulling it, flicking his tongue hard, and sucking it away from his mouth with a growl.

Deeper in. Two fingers. Spreading, before they nearly leave, then seating deeper inside. He lets Poe's body edge closer with each thrust, letting the arousal affect him even though he's spent. He's intent on making him come as many times as he can, to flood him with the best kind of painkillers, to make their bonding reunion feel deeper.

He wants inside so very badly, but he'll deal with the rustling against his lap for now. But not forever. 

"Y-yes… Kylo… please, please more, please don't stop," Poe manages, already half-delirious with it all. "I'm yours, I'm yours, I'll do anything, I… _fuck yes_ , like that, please, oh please…"

He needs, and he wants, and he's out of his mind, and it's wonderful, and _Kylo has him_. And nothing else matters right now because _Kylo_.

Kylo snorts, and his third finger goes in. The angle doesn't let him push deep enough, but it's more about getting him stretched enough for the initial penetration, and to nudge him closer to bliss. "Going to fuck you so hard you think I wrote my name inside you," he purrs. "Going to fuck you so hard you feel the breeze over your ass when you walk, and wish I was back there, inside of you…"

He angles, aiming for his prostate, wanting to make him spark over the edge again. He owes him so very many climaxes, after all, and he's going to deliver as many as he can before he's spent. "Come on my hand. Ride it, like it's my dick. Show me how hard you want me to fuck you. _Show me_." 

Poe isn't sure he _can_ come again so soon, but apparently he's wrong because it only takes a few swift thrusts of his hips – helped along by Kylo knowing _exactly_ where that sweet spot is – and he chokes out a gasp as a second wave of bliss hits him. It's quicker and sharper than the first, and there's almost nothing left in him, but that doesn't stop it feeling _so damn fucking wonderful_.

"I… _yesyes_ … fuck, Kylo, you're going to break me."

Which in no way means anything other than 'please don't ever stop'.

"Yes," he agrees. "I'm going to break you. Over. And. Over. So you fit around me, so you fit inside of me, and me in you," Kylo promises. He doesn't stop caressing that spot inside, not until Poe's nearly crying from it, and then he unzips his fly with the other hand, pushing Poe up high enough with the fingers in his ass to make room for him to sit back down on his cock.

"Ride me. Until you can't ride me any more. And _that's_ when I'll properly fuck you." 

Poe isn't even sure where he's finding the energy for this, given what he's been through in the last few hours, given the state he's still in. And yet, when Kylo tells him to move, he _moves_ ; starting to ride the other man with all the strength he has left, and all the other strength he can muster.

And every last thrust makes him feel like he's being driven right out of his mind and into the cool, dark hinterlands beyond, where everything is still and deep and wonderful. He presses his head to Kylo's again, breath hot against his lover's lips, chasing kisses as he keeps on going, keeps on impaling himself over and over.

"Yours," he murmurs. "Yours. Love you."

" _Faster_ ," Kylo growls, in a voice that brooks no refusal. He drags nails over Poe's chest, up to his nipples, tugging and worrying them almost to the point of agony. "Like you _mean_ it. Fuck yourself until you're raw, Poe. Make me remember how much I love your body, as much as I love _you_." 

" _Yes, Master_ ," Poe gasps in reply, without hesitation, and immediately speeds up as much as he can. He whimper at the fingers and nails on his nipples, dropping his head back and crying out when it gets too much, starting to lose his mind even quicker.

When he's sure Poe's about to give way, Kylo grabs his waist with bruising hands. He lifts him up, and then slams him down like he's nothing, like he's the barest of sex-toys, not a fully grown man. Down, over and over, until he can't keep still any more.

Careful of his injuries, he rolls them over so Poe's on all fours, and starts to drive into him with full force, an arm around his waist to keep him from falling, the other grabbing the bed as he tries to angle the coupling to make Poe wail. 

And Poe does more than just wail. He _screams_ as Kylo thrusts into him like that, _takes him_ like that, and what's left of the world more or less turns black. And there is just _this_ , just them, just the moment and nothing else. He tries to arch upwards as much as he can, even though it hurts; tries to give Kylo everything so he can _take it all_.

"Yes yes yes please, like that, oh Kylo please don't stop, I need you, I need you, I'm yours!"

"You're… mine… only mine… _my pilot, my heart, my soul_ …" His head fuzzy from the need to use him as hard as he possibly can. To find that bliss together, to wipe out all the pain and put only their pain there, instead. He grabs Poe's cock, fists it madly back to hard, pushing his body into the bliss whether it's ready or not. 

"Going. To. Fuck. You. _Blind_ ," he snarls, and then he floods with his whole, tangled, frustrated, long-denied arousal into him, intent on making him come with a howl. 

"Fuck… fuck… Kylo… can't… I… _fuck_!" is all the coherence Poe manages, as Kylo somehow manages to undo him _again_ , and he doesn't even know how the other man is doing that but he _is_ , and he feels like there's no way it can happen but it _does_ , and even though there's nothing actually left in him, the renewed climax still hits hard and quick.

And shunts him squarely out of his own mind.

Kylo feels Poe's arousal crash through his body, and it makes his own explode almost at once. He can't hold back any more, pinching his body to bruising as he grunts and bites the back of his neck as he comes. It's sharp, and hard, and it nearly blacks him out with how the blood is anywhere but in his head…

…and then he's spent, and blissed out, and Poe's absolutely gone in his arms.

With difficulty, Kylo flips them over, and spoons in tight against his ass. "Shh," he soothes, like he didn't just fuck his lover to screaming ecstasy. "Shhhh, I'm here. I'm here." 

"…L've… y…" is all Poe manages. Mostly he's just aware of sensation, now: the ache in his chest, the bliss at his core. The slow ripples of pleasure still fading out and away, right down to his toes. Kylo's arms around him feel beyond wonderful, and he tries to snuggle back against him, needing the contact, needing him there.

"I love you, too," Kylo says, only slightly more coherent. His whole body is bright with bliss, and he rolls slow waves of their hips, chasing the tingles, the aftershocks that pulse out from where they're still joined.

"You did so well," he croons. "So, so well. But you can rest, now. You can rest. I've got you, and I'm taking you home." 

Home? Where even _is_ home now? Poe doesn't know. But it doesn't matter. Home is where Kylo is. Home is here. And wherever they're going. And everywhere in between.

Him. Them. This. _Home_.

And Poe smiles, even though there are tears in his eyes. He made it. They made it.

The touches get softer, though Kylo doesn't leave Poe's mind. Makes sure he blazes all his affection through the door into his head. Kylo kisses his neck, kisses all the places he's bruised and bitten to marking.

"I was a little rough," he says, though it is not an apology.

"Yeah…" Poe manages, dreamily, and it is most assuredly not a complaint. Because… he needed a little rough. When he's more healed, he suspects he'll need a _lot_ rough, but right now… that was perfect.

"Are you too hurt?" Even though he doesn't feel like he is, he still asks, out of courtesy. "Do you need anything?" 

"Just you," is Poe's reply. Words are still difficult, but the emotion radiating off him must surely say the rest. "Only you."

Kylo bends his knees into him, making Poe curl against his chest, staying nestled inside of his body. Soft, soothing caresses. More kisses to his neck, his ear, his lips, his cheek. "Do you want to sleep?" 

"Yes. Please." Sleep. Actual, real sleep, and not merely periods of terrified unconsciousness, would be so good. So very good. And, wherever they're heading, Poe guesses it's a long way. "Just… don't go?"

"I'm going nowhere," Kylo reassures him, and grabs for the covers, pulling them until he can bundle them together, so they can rest. "I'll be here. I'll make sure you only dream of nice things." 

"I'd like that," Poe murmurs, already starting to drift. "I thought I'd forgotten how…"

"You just needed me to help you remember." Kylo starts to push his mind under, guiding him through the tiny resistance points in his subconscious, towards the warm, soft blanket below. "I'll keep you in the happy places. We're going home. You're safe. It's _over_." 

Over? It is, isn't it?

Yes.

Yes.

Poe nods in agreement, getting gradually slower and slower, as his mind finally slips into sleep, and – for the first time in weeks – everything is still, and quiet, and _right_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, have some more lovely art! This was the second of the commissions drawn for Shadow Side's birthday - take a look:
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> All credit to the wonderful [@The-Pudding-Is-A-Lie](http://the-pudding-is-a-lie.tumblr.com/post/152814159512/i-got-commissioned-by-sithofren-for-shadowside)!


	37. Haven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, one and all. We return with our next chapter, in which the fallout from the destruction of the _Successor_ continues, and our heroes finally return to Hinansho.
> 
> We're in the endgame now, folks, but we're going to take our time wrapping things up because there's so much to cover. This is where it starts. We hope you enjoy!

By the time the _Phoenix_ – and the rest of the fleet – draw close to their destination, Poe has woken up, and both he and Kylo are presentable again. They return to the cockpit, which is still lit by the blue-white of hyperspace.

In the pilot's seat, HK-47 turns. "Do you want your chair back now, meatbag?"

The droid really is an odd one. Poe tries not to dwell on it. "Yes," he answers, because he does. "Yes. I do."

HK nods and rises. "I suspected so. Carth always did."

"…I think that might be a little too much information," Poe murmurs, hoping that he's wrong and that the droid _didn't_ just make a quip about Darth Revan's sex life.

For his part, HK merely gives a mechanical shrug and then re-takes the co-pilot's seat. BB-8 rolls over as Poe settles – trying to ignore the fact that _everyone_ knows what he's been doing – and bumps up against him, bleeping reassuringly.

"I'm good, buddy, I'm good," he insists, though BB-8 doesn't seem wholly convinced.

Tovim looks over at Kylo. "Boss… you should know Daria's not left her room since we got here. Maybe you could have a word with her, or send the non-murder droid?"

Kylo winces. "No one's spoken to her at all?"

BB-8 whirs an apologetic no. 

Poe closes his eyes for a moment, feeling fresh grief over what happened, aware that the woman who saved his life did so at the cost of everything and everyone she held dear. And then, eyes open again, he checks the ship's readouts.

"We don't have long before we get to our destination… uh… Hinansho? That right? Well. We'll be there soon. But, Kylo… if you want to go speak to Daria, you've got time."

_Are you sure?_ Kylo asks, silently. He puts his hand on Poe's shoulder, squeezing it, waiting for his response. 

_I'll be fine_ , is Poe's reply. 'Fine' might be pushing it, but he'll be OK. Things are always better when he's flying, even just in hyperspace. And he has BB-8. And possibly Revan's scary murder droid will protect him from Tovim.

And Daria needs checking on.

"Keep my pilot safe," Kylo instructs the astromech. "He's missed you just as much as you missed him."

BB-8's assertion is almost indignant. Of course Poe will be taken care of. It rocks and purrs near his ankle, rubbing against its Master.

Another kiss, this time to his temple, and Kylo vanishes to see to the other Knight.

Tovim grins. "Sleep well?" 

Poe's immediate instinct is to tell Tovim to shut up. He manages to stop himself just before the words slip out, but it's a close-run thing. "Better than I did in a First Order prison cell," he answers, instead. His tone is pointed, but not openly hostile.

"Yeah, they're not the most hospitable of people. You… get a few scratches?" It's possible Tovim is attempting to be half-nice. 

Somehow, this is harder for Poe to deal with than all their usual sniping. He looks down, but not back. "Yeah. One or two. Guess I'll have to let the med-team get their hands on me after we land."

"Well. You walked out. Always a good sign." Tovim shrugs. "You know, you're pretty handy with a sabre for a non-sensitive." 

Oh, this is weird. "I… have a good teacher," Poe answers. "And I had good motivation to learn. I figured it was the only way I'd get him back when… when he was gone. Carried on practicing afterwards."

"You learned to fight… why? You were planning on fighting the old gas-bag? Or us?" Tovim's confused. "You had to know there wouldn't be many chances for you to use it and stay alive, right?" 

Poe sighs. It's hard enough to talk about that whole experience. Talking about it with Tovim is…

He shakes his head at himself and decides just to go for it. "After Snoke recaptured Kylo," he explains, not wanting to go into any more detail than is necessary. "I knew I'd have to face him to win him back. Knew I didn't stand a chance if I couldn't use a sabre. So… I learned. Just the basics, but enough to stop him killing me until I could get through to him."

"You learned to _fight_ so you could fight Kylo? As in… your boyfriend? Wow. Okay." Tovim shudders. "Pretty dedicated of you. I wouldn't want to fight him, not unless I had to. That's… scarily cute." 

"It was the only way!" Poe insists, looking at Tovim now and trying very hard not to blush. "I didn't _want_ to fight him. But… it was the only way." A beat. "Also it worked."

"Evidently. What with you two being married. It's creepily sweet, you know? Not many guys would do what you did. Or maybe that's just the calibre of my dating pool…" Tovim shrugs. "Gotta find me a nice pilot. You sure there's none spare?" 

Poe rolls his eyes. "Tovim. Leave my pilots alone." Technically some of them are single – several, in fact – but there's no way he's setting any of them up. No way.

"…mechanics? Troopers?" But Tovim is teasing, and not actually being (really) creepy. "Is it a 'Light' side thing to be a good partner?" 

"Probably," Poe says. "And it's a _Dark_ Side thing not to let galactic mass-murderers get away with abducting your boyfriend." A shrug, that hides so very much more. "And we're both Light _and_ Dark, so…" There.

"So you're kinky as fuck in bed, but you don't let go of your husband?" The Knight's eyes gleam with mischief. "I knew that repressed fuck would turn out to be a firecracker." 

"…Shut up, Tovim," Poe says, automatically, rolling his eyes again. But he doesn't argue, on account of the part where Tovim _is_ right.

It's at this point that HK-47 – who has been oddly silent thus far – gives a mechanical sigh. "Interrogative: Are you going to be like this the rest of the way back?"

"What's wrong, you programmed to be a prude?" Tovim asks the droid. 

"Not in the slightest," HK-47 replies, levelly. "And if you had met my maker, you would not even ask that question. But I do think it would be easier – and more fun – if the two of you had this fight with weapons. In my experience, _most_ fights are more fun with weapons. Especially for those who have to watch. Unless this is some kind of repressed sexual tension, in which case–"

"…Are you _sure_ you're on our side?" Poe cuts in, before that sentence can get any worse.

Somehow, HK-47 manages to look smug without the benefit of mobile facial features.

"Hey, I'd be game for both, but the boss would kill me. Plus… pretty sure it'd be a bad idea if he's still injured…" Tovim's eyes rake over Poe, not at all subtly. 

"If the two of you don't stop, I'm turning this ship around," the pilot says, flatly.

***

When the door to the little side-room she's taken refuge in opens, Daria looks up. She's curled on the couch in one corner, a tangle of black robes and blonde hair, and at the sight of the man in the doorway, her eyes fill with fear.

"Why didn't you just kill me?" she says, obviously trying to sound strong and angry and not coming particularly close to either.

"Because you don't deserve to die," Kylo answers, still holding back, not entering the room fully.

It's awful. Seeing her so hurt, seeing her curled up and devastated. He did this – all of this – to her. And it hurts like a vibroblade to the gut. He hurt her.

"I'm so sorry, Daria. I never wanted to hurt either of you, but I did."

"It wasn't your fault," Daria insists. "It was Danika. She… She went too far. She went too far, and I wasn't strong enough to pull her back. We should have been unstoppable. We should have been _safe_. But we…"

The young woman falls silent, resting her head on her knees for a moment, before she looks up again. "What's going to happen to me now?"

"It depends what you want to happen to you." He nods at the chair to one side. "May I come in, first?" 

Daria looks almost surprised by the question, but gives a nod of her own in reply. "Yes. Sure."

Kylo enters and keeps his distance, respecting her as much as he can. He sits gingerly down. "What do you want to happen? We have a home, if you want it. With as much support as you need, or want. We have an Order, if you feel able to join it, and plenty of other things you can do if you don't feel able to." 

"You'd… I mean, you're not..?" Daria starts out, then falls silent, seeming a little stunned. "I was your _enemy_ , Kylo. Danika and I, we would have…"

Another silence, this one heavier, and Daria seems on the point of breaking down. "…Why would you help me?"

"I was their enemy, too. When I went back, people wanted to arrest or execute me. But you made a choice. From what I've heard, you rescued Poe. And you helped us… win. If you want to find another way – another way to exist – we can help you do that. You _don't_ have to keep doing what you've always done. There _is_ an alternative."

And Kylo Organa-Solo is walking proof of this. "You were manipulated, from childhood. You didn't have a real choice, but now you do. And it's up to you what you make of it." 

"I… I don't…" Daria runs her hands through her hair, still not quite able to meet his eyes. "I don't know how to be anything else _but_ … this. I… I've always…"

She curls up tighter, but lifts her head, looking over at him. "I want what you found," she says. "I want… _balance_."

"It's not easy, but you can find it," he tells her, his voice so very, very earnest. "And it makes everything make sense. We're not Jedi – not like they taught us. We're what we're meant to be. We're what it's healthy to be."

A bit of both. After all, sentient life isn't split into two. 

"We can train you how to control, but still feel. How to use your emotion, and how to work with others. Rey and I have been working closely together, and we'll do our best to guide you." 

"I'll do whatever it takes," Daria insists, her voice shaking. "Whatever it takes to… to make this _raging_ in my head stop…"

Kylo gets up, then, and holds out a hand. "Can I try to help you?" He's not sure if it will work, but he does want to offer her some comfort, some knowledge that there's hope. 

She shrinks back at first, as if on instinct, but then conscious thought kicks in and Daria nods. "All right… I… What do you want me to do?"

"Take my hand, and I will try to meditate with you. To share some of your pain, and give you some hope. Some knowledge of what you can be, instead." He's aware how much it hurts to feel a bond broken, or pulled to snapping. And he didn't even grow up with it, so it must be infinitely worse for her. 

Another moment's hesitation, and then Daria reaches to take Kylo's hand. Her own is shaking, but her grip is firm despite it, and she doesn't look away. "What should I focus on?"

"Focus on… why did you save Poe? What were you thinking, hoping?" Everything he might say comes tripping on the tails of what he could say about her deceased sister, and finding some calm or happiness in the face of bereavement is no easy task. 

"I… believed Danika had gone too far. And I hoped that saving him would… would stop you from killing me. Maybe even both of us."

The truth in this is evident in the feelings slowly spilling out through the Force: a tangle of emotion and memory, hazed in ever-present red. _A woman in black, watching the interrogation on a viewscreen. A flare of alarm. Standing in the centre of a burning bridge, and having but a moment to choose which shoreline to run for._

"But you wanted something better," he pushes. "It wasn't just an avoidance. There was something you hoped for. Wasn't there? Some bright possibility you couldn't stop yourself from wanting…" 

He steps behind her, in her mind's eye. A hand on her shoulder, pulling her away from the fires. "Tell me what dream you couldn't stop dreaming." 

Another flash, somehow more visceral this time, and a different image snaps into view. _The temple where they spent much of their childhoods, empty and quiet, as if in the early morning. Cool sunlight pours into that familiar space, and every movement through it seems to echo like a real footstep._

"…I wanted to go home," Daria whispers. "I wanted us to be safe. I wanted things to be right."

"We can make it like that. For everyone. We can make it really be safe, no matter how much Light or Dark is in them," Kylo offers, his voice very light, very non-threatening. 

He pulls her gently around, shows her flickering shadow-forms of people. Not real, not yet, but possible. "We can make it so no child ever feels unsafe with their abilities again." 

The thud of grief and realisation in Daria's chest races out through the Force, as though she's been physically hit, and everything seems to sway under the weight of the emotion. "I couldn't save her, Kylo," she manages, on the point of breaking down. "I let her go too far. It's my fault. It's my fault, and now I feel like I've been ripped in two…"

"No… it was my fault. I pulled you into the Darkness, and I didn't pull you back to the Light. It is not your fault. It…" He swallows. "It isn't even really mine. She made her choice. We gave her every possible chance to change, and she… didn't take it."

It hurts, but he knows there was nothing more he could have done. "You love her, you have to respect her decision, even if it's wrong."

The internal image blurs and reforms again, this time becoming the central chamber of the _Successor_ , lit by the Eye of Chikara. Daria recoils from it visibly; physically and emotionally.

"It wasn't her decision," Daria insists. "It was that _thing's_. Before that, it was the Supreme Leader's. It was never about what we wanted. Not really."

"But you chose," he points out. "You had the Leader, and then the Eye. And you chose, so you know she could, too." 

"She's _dead_ ," Daria says, anger flaring, though it isn't directed at Kylo. "She's dead and it's my fault. And now I feel like I've been torn in half and I won't ever be right again."

"It is _not_ your fault. She was her own person. You _tried_. We all did. If anything, blame that Crystal, and blame Snoke. But do **not** blame yourself." 

His head tilts. "Do you need to hate me? It's okay if you do. You can hate me, and let your anger out on me." 

Daria stares at him. "Part of me hates you. Part of me can't stop hating you. You left us. You got to run away and be safe, and we didn't. And you're the one who killed my sister. But the rest of me… the rest of me knows none of this is your fault. Knows you gave us more chances than we deserved. Knows you could've killed us on Akiva, on Midwanjontû. I just… couldn't save her. And now I'm alone."

Maybe he shouldn't, but he can't not. Kylo turns and grabs her, pulling her into his chest. "I never wanted to kill either of you. I wanted to protect you – I always did. I just… at the time, it was the only thing I could do to keep you both alive, and…" He shudders, remembering.

"I never wanted to harm either of you. What happened to us was wrong. But we did what we could." 

At first, Daria resists, and then she tries to push Kylo off, tries to hit him, and then she just goes still and collapses into the embrace. "I want to _rip the galaxy in half_ ," she cries, obviously aiming for rage and only managing anguish. "I want to rip it in half, so it knows how I feel. So it knows what this is _like_."

"I know," he says, rocking her gently. "I know you do. I know you feel so angry you can barely breathe… but if you don't ever feel good again, then they won. They won. You have to keep going until it hurts less, and then _you_ win." 

She tries to hit him again, as if she wants him to hit back, but it's pathetic at best. Plus, if she wanted to start an actual fight, she'd be far more likely to use the Force, and it would be rather more effective.

In many ways, this is just sad.

"She's dead, Kylo. She's dead."

He doesn't raise a hand to her – he has no desire to do it, just to take the smacks where they land – and he curls his hand around the back of her head, instead. "I know she is. But she's in the Force. And… that means she could maybe come back. Or that you can see her again, someday."

Daria is quiet for a moment, and still, as if everything in her mind has just stopped. And then, a fresh flare of panic runs through her, bright in the Force. "What if the Resistance won't let me stay? Where am I even going to go?"

"Daria, they will. You have a home with us. They took me home, do you think there's _any_ chance they'd turn you away? We even took Tovim, and he doesn't really care who won the fight…" 

The young woman seems to consider this. There's plenty of obvious counter-arguments, but then there's also the truth behind it, and the truth is that Kylo did far worse before he defected than Daria ever has.

Still. Reason and emotion are two different things.

"I'll… I'll do whatever I can to make them want to keep me around," she says. "I have intel on the First Order's operations. I've been to their primary Stormtrooper training facility. I can help."

"Which we'll gratefully take off your hands, but don't think you have to sing for your supper. We're offering _home_. Not a bed for rent. You're coming _home_." 

He'll keep telling her until it sinks in properly. 

It clearly isn't, not yet. It's more than likely that Daria Ren has never thought of _anywhere_ as home. Not truly. Except… maybe the Jedi Temple, long ago, but that place and time are lost, and they're never coming back.

And that much, she knows.

"…I wish Dani was here," she says, in a tiny little voice.

"So do I," Kylo replies. "But you're here. And you've got… a family wanting to look after you. We're not her, but we'll still give you everything we can." 

And Daria just starts to sob, softly at first, holding onto Kylo and shaking as the grief breaks through her all over again. She curls in tighter, as if trying to lose herself, or maybe trying to keep herself afloat, to prevent the storm tearing her away.

For a moment, neither of them moves, the silence somehow saying more than words could convey. And then, perhaps mercifully, they're interrupted by the internal comm beeping.

"We're approaching our destination," comes Poe's voice. "Prepare to drop out of hyperspace."

Daria pulls slowly back, taking a deep breath. "Guess I have to do this, then," she says, waveringly.

"Yes. But I'll be with you. So will Poe. So will all of us. You saved him, so you're a hero. People will be _glad_ to see you." 

"I'm not so sure," Daria replies. "I suppose I'll start with them not killing me, and work from there."

The two of them head back to the cockpit, in time to see the last swirls of hyperspace fade back, and reality reassert.

"A _desert_ planet?" Poe says, when he sees Hinansho for the first time. "But I specifically requested _trees_."

"Why?" HK-47 queries.

"…No reason," Poe answers, hastily, before hitting the radio. "Ground control, this is the _Phoenix_. Request landing clearance for us, the _Scion_ , and the squadron."

"Commander?!" comes the operator's voice. "It's good to hear from you."

"Feeling's mutual," Poe says, with a smile, despite everything else.

"Lighting the pads up for you now. I'll inform General Organa you're back."

"Please do."

Although that's another conversation Poe isn't quite ready for.

Kylo keeps hold of Daria's hand as they fly in, not saying anything, but trying to radiate calm to her and Poe at once. His own expression is somewhat worn. He hadn't wanted this ending, though it's better than many they could have had. 

Once the ship touches down and the doors open, there's already a huge circle around the pair of troop ships, the X-Wings landing a little further off. 

Kylo squeezes Daria's hand harder, and then grabs Poe's. "I'm getting you both medical care." 

"I'm fine," Daria insists, looking like she wants to hide in the cockpit and never come out.

"You will be," Poe tells her, turning from the cockpit controls as they power down. He doesn't argue about the medical care part himself, because he knows full-well he needs it. And, to be honest, he'd really rather like it. "We've done this bit before. Just… don't worry if anyone overreacts, because they won't be doing it for long."

By the time they head down the landing ramp, the main concourse of the base is a sea of people, all charging around and celebrating their victory. Poe only has a moment to take in what the place looks like – the buildings familiar and the terrain decidedly not – before someone shrieks his name from the direction of the X-Wing landing pads.

" _Dameron_!" It's Snap, of course. "You're confined to base for the rest of your natural life!"

"I outrank you, Wexley!" Poe calls back.

"I'm taller than you. It cancels out!"

This is more than enough time to close the distance between them, and then Poe is promptly pulled into a very tight hug by his best friend, seconds before several other pilots fling themselves into the same embrace, and suddenly there's at least half a dozen of them all wrapped together, with Poe at the centre.

When they all finally break apart, the rest of the concourse has gone quiet: about half of the crowd staring at Daria – who is all but hiding behind Kylo – and the remainder watching as General Organa approaches, limping noticeably but very much on her feet, with Han, Chewie and Kes all at her back.

"We got him, and we won," Kylo says, when his parents get close enough. "Mom, Dad, Chewie, Kes… I'd like to introduce you to an old friend of mine…" 

"Yeah, can tell. You sure like your black clothes," Han quips, weakly. "C'mon kid, we don't bite."

Chewie groans.

"I did not. That wasn't a bite."

The Wookiee disagrees, and Han glares up at his old friend. "That's how they assert dominance, I was _blending in_."

Daria looks like she doesn't have a clue what to do. "I got Poe out," she blurts. "I had to. And I thought it might…"

"That was you?" Leia says, softly, glancing over to where Poe is standing, still half-surrounded by a very protective gaggle of orange.

"It… yes," Daria manages. "Yes."

Leia nods. "Then you have our heartfelt thanks. Poe is dear to all of us, as you can no doubt see. And if my son has made the decision to bring you back here, I consider you vouched for." A little headtilt. "You're Daria, aren't you?"

The young woman pauses a moment before she answers. "I was. Now… I'm Asha. Asha Jain."

"Yeah, well, you're welcome here. We don't discriminate," Han tells her. "You remember that. Half these people were Imperial or Order at some point, or somewhere in the middle. Ain't everyone born to it and stays where they were born."

"Some come back," Kylo says, gently.

"Some come back. But all are welcome." 

"I… thank you," Asha manages. "I will try not to let you down."

"Take some time to readjust," Leia tells her. "You're safe here."

The words bring tears to Asha's eyes, and she visibly fights them back, biting her lip before she nods, not quite able to speak.

It's at this point that Poe – realising all this attention isn't helping the young woman – manages to extricate himself from the other pilots and take a step towards his father. He's not entirely sure how this is going to go. Not at all sure. But he gets his answer when Kes wordlessly steps towards him and pulls him into a very tight hug, just holding on and holding on.

"My boy," the older Dameron manages, after a moment, not pulling back. "I thought…"

"…I know," his son tells him. "I know."

"What happened out there?" Leia asks, when the two Damerons finally break apart. "The _Successor_?"

"We blew the Eye, and then escaped as the ship went down," Kylo says. "Don't know what happened to Hux, but we found Copperwing. It was Mitaka. Dopheld Mitaka. Has he turned up anywhere?"

" _What_?" Admiral Statura exclaims, stepping from the crowd and staring at Kylo in amazement. "Copperwing's _alive_?"

"He was the last time I saw him," Poe replies. "I was as stunned as you. He'd fed them a fake agent as a decoy and then gone dark, but he was still operating. He's the one who told you where the _Successor_ was, and he helped Dar– uh, Asha and I, after Asha broke me out of prison. But he went off on his own before we got to the Eye. He said… he said he had something he needed to do."

It had felt oddly final at the time, though Poe had been too overwhelmed by everything that was happening to dwell on it too deeply. But now… he wonders if he should have made the man stay with them.

And, at the same time, doubts it would have made a difference.

"We haven't heard anything from him," Statura replies, carefully. "That's not uncommon, though: if he's gone to ground, it may be some time before he calls in. But I'll have our listening posts watch out for anything unusual. Did he say anything when you were with him?"

"Very little," Poe answers. "But he did give me the co-ordinates for the First Order's primary troop training facilities. And… oh… also he gave me this."

And he pulls out the holodisk Mitaka gave him, handing it to Statura.

"He told me to bring it back to you. He said… it was one problem he could fix."

Statura nods. "I'll have my people analyse it at once. Good work, Commander."

Poe manages a hazy smile. "I try, Admiral. Now…" His head goes a little dizzy again, the pain in his chest flaring once more. He can only control it for so long before it sets back in, and all of this otherwise lovely hugging isn't exactly helping. "…I could really use a medic. And to sleep for the next forever…"

He staggers again, enough that Kes has to catch hold of him, and several other people start forwards, obviously worried.

Kylo darts in, grabbing Poe and hefting him into his arms, pulling him snug to his chest. "I need to get my husband to a medic. Please get a gurney. And I want Asha to be checked over, too." 

"You heard the man," Leia says, pointedly, concern in her own eyes. "Everyone else… take some time. You've earned it. We'll have a full debrief later on."

Taking the hint, people start to disperse. Several of the pilots linger, clearly wanting to make sure Poe is all right, though they stay back to allow a medical team through. They come hurrying over, bringing a gurney between them, waiting for Poe to be laid on it before they set off towards the infirmary.

Rey, meanwhile, lets go of Finn's hand – which she's been holding tight – and steps up to Asha. "You're going to be OK," she says, gently. "Come on."

Asha manages a nod, and lets herself be led in the wake of the medical team.

There's a lot of healing to be done here. A lot.

But it has to start somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incidentally, 'hinansho' is a Japanese word meaning 'haven', whilst 'chikara' is Japanese for 'force'.
> 
> 'Tahanan' is Filipino. We'll leave you to find out what that one means.


	38. Final Intel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday, everyone! We return with the next of our endgame chapters, in which the healing continues, and a fallen hero snatches one last victory.
> 
> We hope you enjoy. :-)

Poe wakes sometime later.

For a moment, he isn't quite sure where or when he is, and he jolts up in shock, blinking around himself, mind slowly processing that _this is not a First Order prison cell_.

On the contrary. This is a pale-walled, well-lit infirmary room, somewhere in the Resistance base, which he realises seconds after all the other memories start to flood back in.

He's alive. He's safe. He still hurts, but the pain is duller than it was before, and it's a welcome relief.

Kylo, sitting in the chair opposite, launches to his feet the minute Poe wakes up. "Hey, sleepyhead," he greets him in a soft (but worried) voice. "You feeling okay?" 

"…Uh… yeah," Poe manages. "Everything kind of aches but… it hurts a lot less than it did. How long was I in the Bacta for?"

"Overnight. You've been patched back together. No serious internal injuries… but you're going to be sore for a while. Do you need pain meds?" 

"No… no, I'm good." The pilot pauses, mind still racing a little. "…Can't quite believe all this is real. I thought…"

He trails off, but it doesn't take a Force-bond to realise what the end of this sentence would be.

"I know, but it is real. You're home. We got you out. The Eye is gone, and you're with us. With _me_." Kylo reaches for his hand, clasping it, hard. "We won. We really won. You're _home_."

On an alien planet, but still. Home is family more than co-ordinates. 

Poe holds Kylo's hand just as tight. "I thought I was going to die," he says, softly. "I mean, I've had some tight scrapes before – in a ship and out of one – but never…"

The words trail off, and Poe bites his lip. The memories are rushing back thick and fast, and they hurt, they _hurt_ , far more than any physical wound.

Kylo pushes his forehead to Poe's, and sends gentle, warming touches through his mind. "Do you want – or need – to talk about it? Or do you need me to distract you? Time to process it? Whatever it is you need, I'll do it." 

"I don't even know," Poe admits, softly. "I'm used to being on the other side of these situations. The one helping, not the one who…"

He trails off again, instinctively pulling Kylo in closer. A deep breath. Sometimes it's better to just say the words.

Better, but not easier.

Kylo pushes Poe gently to the side of the bed, and climbs in beside him. He pushes alongside him, draping an arm over his shoulders, pulling his head under his chin and letting him talk.

"…She tortured me twice." Poe doesn't say Danika's name out loud. He knows Kylo is still hurting over what happened to the woman, and he's trying to keep those feelings separate from the feelings that his words will no doubt provoke. Because both are valid, even if they are incongruous.

"The first time, she fucked with my head so much I didn't know _when_ I was… so, when she tried to make me tell her where the base was, I gave up D'Qar."

He shakes his head, expression wry. "Even _I_ believed I'd given up the real location. I guess that's why she fell for it. And that bought me several days, because she didn't go for me again until they found out D'Qar was long-abandoned. In between… I was mostly alone. In the dark. Too much time to think."

"I could feel some of it. And – for what it's worth – we evacuated Tahanan pretty quickly. Not because we didn't trust you, but… because we had to. Like D'Qar." And him. Kylo remembers the guilt he'd felt about that, too. "We can talk about things she said, or did, if it helps you to have someone know. But I won't demand to know things… that's your choice if you feel it's better said, or not." 

"I knew you would evacuate," Poe says, softly, curling into Kylo more. "I was just desperate to buy you as much time as I could. And I… I didn't like the thought of the First Order getting its hands on our _home_."

The rest is far harder to engage with. He doesn't _want_ to talk about the specifics of what happened. But… he can't help wondering if he _needs_ to.

"…She wasn't as good at it as you," he blurts, realising too late that this simply isn't a good way to phrase it. "The… uh… Force side of things, I mean. She got in my head, but… it took more. To get me to talk. Which is part of why it got more physical. Although, the second time… mostly she just wanted to hurt me. To punish me. For tricking her. Even though it wasn't even deliberate…"

"And you feel violated because… we turned that activity into something personal, private, and intimate. She made it unpleasant, when with us it's anything but?" Kylo asks, stroking over his arm. "At least you can tell the difference. If it didn't feel the same, it _won't_ feel the same. And when you're ready, when you feel up to it… we can break those memories by putting stronger, happier ones there, instead. If… you think it might help?"

Poe nods, holding on tighter still. "It might. She talked about you a lot. About you and… and about Snoke. I… could hear his voice in my head, through her memories. I don't know how much she knew about… you know, about that… but it was enough to know how to hurt me. And having her in my head… it was like…"

'It was like what Snoke did', he's trying to say, but can't. Not quite. Because those memories still burn like ice in deep space, whenever they cross his mind.

"She's out of your head, now. She's gone. She can't do it again, and neither can he. No one will violate you again," Kylo promises. "You're here, and you're home."

He's not sure any of what he is saying is helping, but if nothing else he hopes the love, understanding and affection he pushes out will be beneficial. More kisses, all along Poe's hairline. 

"She was hurt, too. She was only doing what I did. It's just… she didn't connect to you like I did. She couldn't feel the way out of what she was doing, and the Eye probably had a hand in that." 

"I know," Poe answers, very softly. "Believe me… I know how that thing could make you feel. It was like having a headful of poison. I look back on what I did when it was affecting me, and it makes me sick."

He pauses, trying not to think about it. Trying not to think about any of it.

"I'm sorry I didn't realise… about the shard," Kylo says, after a long, long moment. "I should have sensed it, or checked, or… something. I knew you weren't yourself, but I thought it was.. I thought it was because of the main Eye, not…"

"Neither of us knew," Poe replies, though in truth he's aware he himself never stood a chance of knowing. "It hid itself. I must have had it on me – or near me – pretty much the whole time, never realising it was there. Never realising I was picking it up, moving it about. I didn't have the slightest idea. And then they told me I'd had it in my pocket; told me it was a shard from the Eye itself. And I could _feel_ the gap in my mind where its influence had been, almost as though it had been physically inside me. Once it was gone, I could see the way I'd been behaving, and I knew it was all wrong. So wrong."

Another pause, and a deep breath. "They found the Eye because of that shard. Because of me."

"And we destroyed it, because of that," Kylo points out. "That Dark blot on the galaxy – no – that _evil_ is gone, because of that." Which is a good thing. Even if he'd have wished any other way but this.

"The galaxy is safer, now. It won't hurt anyone ever again." 

"I know," Poe says. And he does. "I know." It doesn't make it any easier, though.

He's silent for a moment, before he can speak again. "I'm sorry. I know you'll tell me none of it was my fault, and maybe you're right, but… I'm still sorry. Sorry I couldn't stop the Eye affecting me. Sorry I nearly got Leia killed. Sorry for all of it."

"I know. And I still feel bad for everything I did… but it gets less, with time. You'll probably feel bits of it forever, but you'll be able to go on. It will hurt less. With every day, it will hurt less." The Knight knows, because he's been through it. 

For a long time now. Kylo squeezes him as hard as he dares. "Let me help you, like you helped me." 

"I want you to," Poe whispers, and there's need in his voice, but it's not the base need for physical intimacy, but something far more complex. "I need to come back from this. I want to feel like myself again."

"I'm… do you…" Kylo flounders, unsure of how to help. "Do you want it, now? Or… do you want to wait, first? I don't want to hurt you any more. I don't know what's best, I just know I need to make you happy again." 

"You already have," Poe tells him, softly, thinking of the previous day, on the _Phoenix_. "Just knowing that you're not angry with me over what happened on Onderon… it helps. A lot. And right now, just being with you helps too. When I can feel the warmth of your skin, or the beat of your heart, and I know I'm not dreaming. I know I'm not about to wake up back… back _there_."

"You're home," Kylo reassures him. "You're home, and you're safe. You don't need to worry about it. No one here – least of all me – blames you for anything. And you helped take down the Eye, and the Order. Remember that. Whenever you feel low… remember that." 

Poe pushes in closer, holding tight to Kylo as he does. "We really won, didn't we? Again." It won't be the end – far from it – but he's sure that their latest victory will be as tide-turning as the destruction of the _Decimator_ , or of Starkiller Base.

"We did," Kylo says. "The Knights of Ren are no more. The Eye of Chikara is gone. We did it. We won." Even more so than last time – or maybe just as much? He's not sure. "We did it."

He's sure of that.

"And now… now there's nothing to stop you from turning the Knights of Eigengrau into a force to be reckoned with," Poe adds, with a little smile. "No pun intended, of course. A force for good."

"With you, and Rey, and Finn. And… Asha…" Kylo says the name carefully, waiting for Poe's reaction. 

"You think we can help her?" Poe asks, softly. His feelings towards the woman who used to be called Daria Ren are almost entirely sympathetic by this point. Yes, she and her sister did some terrible things, but, in the end… _Asha_ made the right choice. Even if what she went through must be ripping her apart right now.

And he has some idea of what other traumas must surely be lurking beneath the surface. Yes, Asha wasn't the leader, nor the child of two galactic figureheads, but still… Poe knows she will have suffered under Snoke. And he knows the efforts needed to repair that damage, as much as it ever can be repaired.

"I think we can," Kylo replies. "I _know_ we can. She's been through a lot… but both of us know what it's like to be separated from a bondsmate. She was bound to her twin her whole life, like my mother and Luke…"

Actually… "Do you think she would… do you think letting her talk to Mom would help?" 

Poe nods. "It might, yes. Your mother will have a good idea what she's going through. And… it might help to give Asha some space. She has to figure out what to do next and she's never had to do that before. Plus she is still grieving for her sister, who everyone here – except maybe you – has only ever seen as the enemy."

"Will you need me to keep her away from you?" Kylo asks, as sensitively as he can. "For a while? Or… will it be okay? I know Danika did some awful things, and… she has the same face." 

"No," Poe answers. "Dar– _Asha_ is the one who saved me. She didn't just get me out, she… she burst into the room and lured her sister off right in the middle of… of it all. I didn't realise until she came back, but… she must have been watching. I'm probably only alive because of that. Because of her."

He pauses, and gives a wry little headshake. "And I'm not being poisoned by the Eye anymore. I can think for myself. I don't hate her for what she did."

He doesn't even hate Danika, not really. It's hard to separate the feelings entirely, given the graphic memories of what she did to him, but… he knows how damaged she was. How broken. And he knows how damnably close Kylo came to falling into the same inescapable hole.

Kylo brushes Poe's hair from his forehead, kisses very, very fondly. "She is going to need every friend she can get. She turned away from a very, very powerful connection for the greater good. Perhaps she was even stronger than me, because of it." 

After all, he had the draw _to_ Poe, and Asha fought against her own draw to her sister. "I want to make… it right for her. Like I should have done, all those years ago." 

"I know," Poe says, leaning into the touch. "And we will. Both of us. We'll help her. And you… you and Rey… you can teach her to find balance."

"Tovim, however… I don't know how much longer he's going to stay around." Or how much longer Kylo even wants him around. 

"If he wants to stay… you can let him, you know," Poe points out. "I realise we don't get on especially well, but I'm probably past wanting to punch him in the face." A beat. "Probably. But, if he doesn't want to stay… then I guess we let him go. So long as you think we can trust him not to betray us."

"I don't think he'd enjoy it here." After all, no one's been particularly fond of him since he joined. It doesn't help that it wasn't under the best of circumstances, even if he came over early. "He has no moral connection with us. He just wanted not to die." 

"Will you… be sorry?" Poe asks, carefully. "If he goes, I mean."

"I'm sorry he doesn't want to stay," is the reserved answer. "But I can't make him feel something he doesn't." 

"And you don't think we could… change his mind?"

"I've tried, but… Tovim doesn't… I don't know if he's capable of feeling for other people?" Kylo frowns. "I know that sounds awful to say, but I think he's only even capable of feeling for others in what they can do for him." 

Poe shakes his head a little. He knows Kylo is right, and he can't deny the fact that he himself doesn't get on exactly well with Tovim. And yet… it still hurts. To lose someone who could be an ally, and who still means something to Kylo, on some level.

"I guess it has to be his choice. And, either way… there will be others. People we _can_ help."

"We have Asha," Kylo replies. "And there is… there is no one pulling people to solely Dark. So we have a chance to make a better school, one that will help everyone, no matter… where their heart lies."

"A chance no one has had, for Force-knows how long," Poe says. "And an order that truly works for both sides; that doesn't drive people one way or the other."

A dichotomy shattered, and an opportunity to build something new from the pieces.

"She's here, you know. I had them check her over. Mostly because I think she needs to be around people… and not feel like she's under arrest. I think Rey went to speak to her." For which Kylo's very grateful. 

Poe smiles. "I'm glad. It's better she isn't alone. And… Rey can help her. Plus they don't have the history that you and she do, so… yes."

He pauses. "She'll be all right. Asha, I mean. It will take time, but… in the end, she will be all right."

"So will you," Kylo points out. "We all will. It might not happen straight off… but we'll get there." 

That makes Poe curl in tighter. "You're right," he says, and he believes it.

And, for now, that's enough.

***

It's later that day when word gets out that Admiral Statura has called a briefing.

It isn't an open briefing, either: those who are to attend are called by name, which – coupled with the fact that it's Statura, and not Leia – suggests the reason is strictly intel-based. And that in turn implies the topic in question has to be Copperwing.

Poe still doesn't know what happened to the man, to Dopheld Mitaka, after he left them aboard the _Successor_. Nor does he know what was on the holodisk that the Resistance's greatest spy entrusted to him right before they parted.

But he suspects he's about to find out.

The attendees gather in the central bunker; which, unlike the one on Tahanan, is actually built into the side of the mountain bordering the base. Poe and Kylo are there, as are Leia, Han and Chewie, Rey and Finn, Kes, and Ackbar and Ematt.

The last to arrive is Admiral Statura himself, expression its usual textbook-unreadable. He steps up to the holotable they're standing around, laying not one but two holodisks on its surface.

"Thank you all for coming," the Admiral starts out, looking around at them. "I've chosen to call this closed briefing because of its content, but some of what I'm about to say will be made public – very public – this evening. I need to start with the most serious announcement. I regret to inform you all that Agent Copperwing is dead."

"…Mitaka? How?" Kylo stares in open shock and distress. He hadn't even had the chance to thank him, once he knew. "What happened to him?"

Several others mutter to one another, the mood dipping considerably. 

Statura's expression turns grave, and at the same time… so very proud. "I will let him explain that part himself," he says.

And the Admiral lifts the first of the two holodisks, slotting it into the reader in the table, which lights up at once.

The angle of the holo is all wrong, the aperture pointed up from somewhere low down. It paints an unflattering image of a fluttering chest and a face shot from below. 

Dopheld Mitaka's expression is pained, but determined.

"This is… Copperwing. Probably my final transmission. Good to… well. For you to see my face, I guess. Sorry it took me so long…"

His voice fades out, and a hand moves. There's blood when it does, and another little wince.

"Gave Commander Dameron some intel. All good. Need to let you know that Tahanan is safe. No one got that, but the – but the two Knights, Danika and Daria. If she's gone, then you're safe. You can… you can go back."

He sits up. Painfully slowly, and the angle shifts to something more professional, but no less bloody. "Hux is dead. You don't need to worry about him, not any more. Captain Phasma – I think – escaped. Worth keeping your eye out for her. Most likely to re-mobilise, but… made sure the infrastructure is gone. Priority for those training academies. Suggest you take them out before they move."

A hand across the brow, smearing red. The sound of distant explosions, the image shaking on the shockwave. "Sorry for the extended dark. Had to make him think he'd got me. Copperwing. Had to keep my cover for – for this. Hope you get this. It's been an honour. I'm… Force be with you."

A rushing flash of light, and the image cuts. 

For a long moment, the room is silent. No one seems to know what to say. There are some significant – and welcome – revelations in Dopheld Mitaka's final words, but it doesn't change the fact that they've just watched the man die.

"News of Copperwing's death will be made public," Statura says, eventually, his voice heavy. "Everyone will know what he accomplished, and what he gave his life for. And, though we do not yet have corroborating evidence, we are taking his assertion of General Hux's death as fact. This will no doubt be a massive blow to the First Order – coupled with the loss of the _Successor_ – and one we must move to capitalise on. To that end…"

He slips the first holodisk from the table, and lays it down, now picking up the second. "This is the intel mentioned; the disk Copperwing gave to Commander Dameron. And it is, I assure you, quite something…"

Statura slots the disk into the table, and a series of images and documents spark into life, hovering between them.

"This is the full dossier on the so-called 'New Rebellion'," the Admiral explains. "The terrorist group purporting to be allied with us. Contained on this disk are copious notes and mission reports on the group's activities, clearly and decisively proving them to have been acting under General Hux's orders. This intel, when presented to the Republic Senate, should be more than enough to clear our names… and to cause significant upset to certain senators who had backroom dealings with the First Order."

"…he… we're… we'll be cleared?" Kylo stares in open shock. "Our names cleared?"

"Looks like it," Finn agrees. "Man. What we could have done with this earlier." 

Poe grips Kylo's hand tightly at his side. He feels like a weight has been lifted off him; another weight he'd thought he'd have to live with, but is now free of.

"This is excellent news, Admiral," Leia says, her demeanour professional, but her eyes betraying how happy she is. "We will make immediate overtures to the Senate, and arrange to present the information to them. And then… we can start moving forward again."

"Did we find any trace of Phasma?" Kylo asks. "Because Mit-- Copperwing was right. She's the most dangerous of them." 

Statura shakes his head. "No sign of her so far, but it will be several days – if not longer – before we can ascertain what happened to the other senior members of the First Order who may have been aboard the _Successor_. We know that a number of smaller ships escaped before it was destroyed, so for the time being we're acting on the assumption that Phasma is alive."

"What about the Stormtrooper training stations?" Poe now asks, carefully. "Copperwing gave me the co-ordinates for all three, and he obviously believed we should go after them next."

Leia immediately looks at Finn. "You know that side of things better than anyone here. What do you think our approach should be?"

"The officers tend to be careers – family careers – like Hux was," Finn answers. "The ones who don't wear white and black are there because they believed in the cause without needing it pushing into their heads. I think if we can try for one – take out the top levels – and offer the troopers a chance…"

"The troopers are still dangerous," Kylo reminds him. "Even if it's not their choice, a lot of them will buy into the rhetoric, or have never had the chance to question it."

"We need to do it carefully, yes. But we still need to try." Finn lifts his chin in polite defiance. "Take one facility. Offer them freedom. Use it as proof of concept, and then take troops from the first base to liberate the other two." 

"I couldn't agree more," Leia replies, with a nod. "We'll begin working on a plan of attack whilst we review what intel we have – and what additional intel we can gather in the meantime."

Poe takes a deep breath. "What about the other thing Mitaka said? What about Tahanan? Are we..?"

There's hope in his voice, and he doesn't mind people hearing it. They know what that planet means to him.

"The idea of being able to go back is a welcome one," Leia says. "Although our base here was well-prepared, the terrain and location are not nearly as forgiving as conditions on Tahanan. But we must be cautious."

Statura nods. "We must," he agrees. "Ordinarily I would outright oppose returning to a location that may have been compromised; however… I am aware of both the strategic and personal value Tahanan presents. I propose sending a small contingent to the vacated base there to monitor the planet for several days, to watch for the slightest sign of First Order activity. If none is detected… we could consider returning."

Kylo glances to Poe. _Do you want to go in the first tranche, or do you need to be here with the masses?_

_I want to stay here for now_ , is the pilot's mental reply. _I need some time with the squadron. And you._

Also there's the fact that going back and not being able to stay would hurt even more. Tahanan wasn't just a base. It was _home_.

"We'll send recon fliers in the first instance," Statura continues. "After that, I'll dispatch a ground team to survey the base and monitor the system. If all goes well, we could consider returning in a week or so."

"All right," Leia agrees. "We'll disperse for now, and reconvene once we have more intel."

"I'd like a moment, if that's okay?" Kylo asks his mother, and glances to see if Poe wants to come along or not. 

"Of course," she tells him, headtilting to a quiet spot at the very back of the room, where they can talk.

"I want to go catch my dad," Poe tells Kylo. "Come find me later?" _Don't leave it too long_.

_I won't_. Kylo grabs his hand, squeezes, then lets go. A little smile. "Send him my best, won't you?" 

"I will," Poe replies, and manages a smile of his own, before he turns and hurries off after Kes.

Leia waits for Kylo to head back over to her. "What is it?" she asks, a flicker of concern in her eyes now they're alone. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, it's Da-- Asha." Kylo rocks a little, wringing his hands. "She lost her… bond. With her twin. And…" He doesn't quite feel able to say it aloud. 

That makes Leia reach out to him, putting a hand on his arm. "You want me to help her," she surmises, softly. "Because the same thing happened to me."

He winces, feeling guilty. It's his fault Luke is dead. "You understand more than anyone else. And being around me and Poe, or Rey and Finn… it will remind her what she lost." 

"It will," Leia says. "But you and Rey can also teach her how to use her abilities without falling too deep into the Dark Side. Although… I agree it will be difficult for her, particularly at first, and in that respect, I can help. If Asha is willing to let me."

"We will teach her, but – I don't want to try until she's… over the worst of the grief," Kylo says. "Her pain will be too much to control, at least to start out with. We'd run the risk of her feeling we couldn't help, and her leaving, if we didn't do it right away for her." 

His mother nods. "I know. And there may be… other trauma… that she also has to deal with." Leia's words are careful at this, betraying the obvious awareness that her own son went through much of the same. And worse. "I will do all I can to help her through it. To help her deal with losing her twin, losing that bond. To help her go on alone."

"Do you still sense Uncle Luke?" he asks. "I know he didn't come speak to me or Rey much, but… can you feel him, in the Force?" 

"I can," Leia replies. "I may not have his abilities – or yours – but I can sense him there. I can feel him, not in the same way I once did, but… undeniable, nonetheless. And, though it was hard to understand at first, I know the bond between us is not truly broken. It is just… different now."

"When – later – you will see him again. And grandfather, and grandmother. We will all be reunited, one day." Kylo takes some comfort in that, even if he has no desire to see that day any time soon. 

Leia takes her son's hands, and holds them tight. "We will," she says. "As for now… we should go and talk to Asha. To help her start healing."

"Thank you," Kylo says, squeezing back at her hand. "For everything. I mean it, Mom. Thank you." 

"You never have to thank me," Leia answers, smiling. Smiling with unfading happiness at the son who came home. "But you're welcome."


	39. Legacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, dear readers, and a very happy Saturday to you all! Today, we come with - drumroll please! - our penultimate chapter. Yes, really. We still can't quite believe that this fic we started one insane night in January managed to spiral into something that encompassed a whole year of our lives.
> 
> More on that next time. For now, have some more aftermath, and we'll see you in a week... for the end of all things.
> 
> For now, at least... ;-)

As Kylo goes to talk to his mother, Poe hurries off after his father. He catches up with Kes just as the older Dameron is finishing a conversation with Finn, and then just sort of… stops, not quite sure what to say.

Kes, for his part, lets Finn head off after Rey with a nod, before turning to his son.

"Dad. Can we talk?" Maybe don't make it sound quite so ominous.

Kes puts a hand on his arm. "Of course. Come on."

They pace off together, away from the main concourse of the base and over towards an outcrop of rock beyond the primary X-Wing landing pads.

"How are you feeling?" Kes asks, when they're alone.

"Better," Poe replies. "The pain's a lot duller now, and moving's much easier. Guess the Bacta helped with that."

"I guess so."

They're both holding back on saying something. Poe knows he is, and it's obvious his father is doing the same.

"Listen, Dad, I–" Poe starts out.

"Poe, I just wanted to–" Kes begins, at exactly the same time.

They fall silent.

"…I need to tell you something," Poe carries on, when his father doesn't speak. "To apologise, really, for the way I've been these last few weeks. I know I haven't always been my usual self, and I–"

His father puts a hand on his arm again. "Poe," he says, gently, "Kylo told me about the shard."

"…Oh," Poe manages, and then goes quiet.

"I sat with you a lot of the time you were unconscious," Kes continues. "Kylo made me go off to sleep in the end, but we were in there together for quite some time, and he told me. Told me about the Eye, and the effect it had on you all, and about the shard you'd been carrying. He said it was why you'd been acting strangely; that it had messed with your emotions. Made you angry, ramped up the darkness in you."

"It's true," his son replies. "I didn't even realise until… until they took it from me when I was captured, and told me what it was. And I felt awful because I never even knew, and…"

"Poe. None of this is your fault. That crystal made you act this way, but it's gone now. And you feel… different?"

"I do. I feel different. I feel like myself again. I just hate the thought that I was so… _wrong_ for so long. And even though, rationally, I know it wasn't my fault… I still need you to know that I'm sorry."

Kes pulls him into a hug at that, and Poe lets him; wrapping his arms around his father and holding on. "I'm sorry too," Kes says, after a moment, and that makes Poe pull back enough to meet the older man's eyes, surprised by the words.

"For what?"

"For not supporting you as much as I should have when you left the Republic Navy. When you came to join the Resistance. I let my own feelings get in the way, and I'm sorry. I let my own _fears_ get in the way, when you were out here risking everything for a cause I still believed in, even if I didn't always act like it."

"Dad, I–"

"Hear me out," Kes insists. "I am sorry. I mean it. I've seen the good you and the Resistance have done, seen the difference you make, and even if this war with the First Order lasts another thirty years, or a hundred years, it's still better to stand up than to fall down and give in. That's what your mother would have said. That's why your mother _did_ say." A wry little smile. "And she was smarter than both of us."

Poe smiles too. "She was. But I am who I am because of both of you, Dad. Don't forget that."

Kes wraps him in tight again, and Poe feels so much of the tension drop out of him at that. They both made mistakes – he knows he made them too – but now he really feels like they can move on from it.

"What will you do now?" Poe asks. "Go back to Yavin? Or..?"

"I'm staying," Kes replies. "I'm a part of this. I should have been a part of it a lot sooner, but better late than never, hey? Plus now you don't have to worry about sending me messages," he adds, with a little smirk. "You can just come tell me things."

Poe looks sheepish. "Yeah. Uhm. Sorry about that."

"Don't mention it. You just keep making me proud, OK?"

And they stand together for a moment; father and son, staring out across the open desolation of Hinansho, and Poe can't help a smile.

Yes. He does feel better.

***

Kes heads off after that – to join the next training session with the Pathfinders – and Poe is about to go in search of Kylo when a familiar orange-clad figure emerges from beneath the nearest X-Wing and shouts his name.

"Dameron!"

"Hey, Snap," Poe says in reply, pacing over.

The taller pilot scrambles up from where he's been working on his ship and leans back on the hull, waiting for Poe.

"You gonna ask how I'm feeling too?" Poe starts out, with a grin.

"Nah, I can tell," Snap answers. "You look better than you've done in weeks. About damn time, as well. And, before you do the big dramatic speech, I already know about the shard."

Is there anyone on base who doesn't?

"What, did Kylo call a briefing or something whilst I was in the Bacta?"

"He told me when I stopped by to see how you were doing. Said the damn thing screwed with your head and made you… you know, the way you've been. Which was a massive relief, because more than half the squad had been to see me at some point or another in the last few weeks, asking what the heck was wrong with you. You had everyone worried."

"I really am sorry, Snap, I–"

"Seriously, Dameron, stop apologising," Snap insists, clapping him on the shoulder. "The thing messed with your head. It wasn't you."

"But… it was, though," Poe can't help saying, which is a thought that's been burning away at the back of his mind for a while now, and chosen this moment to come to the fore. "I mean, OK, yes, the shard dialled everything up, made it worse, made it stronger and harder to control, but… those feelings still came from somewhere inside me."

"Of course they did," Snap says. "Everyone has darker thoughts at the back of their head. You know that. You probably know it better than most, because you've seen what can happen if that darkness grows unchecked."

"I know. But…" Putting this into words isn't easy, especially when Poe is still processing it himself. "…I wanted terrible things."

Snap folds his arms and headtilts, seeming otherwise unperturbed. "Like what?"

Poe sighs. "To conquer the galaxy. To obliterate the enemies of the Resistance. To _hurt_ them for what they've done to us."

Another little headtilt. "All right. Why?"

That makes Poe stare at him. "Why what?"

"Why did you want to do those things? For fun?"

"No."

"Personal satisfaction?"

"No. Well. Mostly no."

"OK. Then why?"

"Because everything the First Order stands for is wrong, just the same as the Empire was. Because the things they advocate are cruel and hateful and xenophobic, because all they want is power at any cost, no matter how many people they hurt or murder in the process."

Snap gives him a look. "And all of that is true, isn't it? Anyone in the Resistance would say the same."

"Well, yes, but…"

"But nothing, Dameron. That shard didn't change your core beliefs, or your motivations. It just changed your way of addressing them."

"But I wanted to conquer the galaxy!"

Snap has to suppress a laugh at that. "Poe. Everyone wants to conquer the galaxy once in a while. Only difference is, you happen to have a husband who could actually _do it_ if he tried."

Poe knows there's a telling look in his eyes at that, and there's no way Snap is going to miss it. And he doesn't.

"Is that what you're afraid of?" Snap asks, more levelly.

"…What if I'd pulled him down into that darkness with me?" Poe says, softly. It's not something he's engaged with consciously, but now that he does, he's aware that this fear is right at the heart of it all.

"I think you underestimate the effect you had on the man," Snap answers, with another little smile. "And I don't just mean romantically. I may not understand all the Force-stuff, but I do know that when you helped him find balance, you changed everything. And it's going to take a lot more than a few bad moods on your part to wreck that."

"But… the things I wanted…" Poe is aware he sounds a little petulant. Or maybe 'desperate' is closer. But he also knows he needs to work this out, and he isn't sure how.

"You already want some pretty… unusual things," Snap says, carefully. "I'm not judging, and I'm not asking for details, and Maker knows you must be doing something right because I've never known you to be as happy as you are with Kylo. But… you do want some unusual things. Things that people might see as being dark. But they aren't about that, are they?"

"No," Poe replies, just as carefully. "No, they aren't."

"No," Snap echoes. "What are they about?"

"How much I love Kylo. How much I trust him." A beat, and a hint of a blush. "Our shared history."

"Right. What matters is the meaning behind it, the _reason_ you do it. And, Poe, the same logic applies. Even when you were under the influence of an immensely powerful Dark Side artifact, even when you wanted the things you're afraid of… you wanted them because you're fighting for peace. For freedom. For the Resistance."

"…It isn't that simple."

"No. No, it isn't. But I'm still right."

He is. "Yeah. You're still right." A beat. "Don't let it go to your head, Wexley."

Snap grins. "Too late. So. You cleared to fly, yet?"

"Probably not."

"Huh. You think we should go do something about that?"

And Poe smiles. "Yes. Yes, I do."

***

"Wondered when you'd turn up, boss," says Tovim (formerly of) Ren. He's sprawling across his couch, playing with a blaster. 

"Asha and Poe are both fine," Kylo replies, answering a question he didn't ask. "Asha is going to stay with us, for now."

"This when you try to convince me again about the greater good?"

"Would I be a good Master if I didn't?"

"Suppose not." Tovim holds the weapon up, sighting down it, making a few 'pew, pew' sounds. 

"Even if you don't believe in the goals we have here, you must know that I can teach you a lot, still. Rey and I have a vast knowledge and access to the Masters who have passed. We can help you further your abilities."

"If I want to get any better. But why do I need to?"

"All knowledge is good, if you can apply it."

"Well, there isn't anyone out for my blood. You pretty much wiped out the competition, and I'm still holding onto that pardon you gave me."

Kylo bites his lip. They did pardon Tovim, and he did work hard for it, he has to admit. Their mission hadn't been safe, or easy. "There's also safety in numbers. And… the potential to make friends."

"Friends? Your husband tried to kill me--"

"That was the _Eye_."

"Even so, it just amplified his existing feelings."

"Which you did nothing to assuage. You have hardly been open to making acquaintances, or friends, Tovim." In fact, the man's been anything _but_. "They will warm to you, if you don't push them away by making such… openly sexualised comments."

"You mean, 'not be me'? Because… gotta say, this isn't gonna change. I'd be lying if I acted any different, boss. You might have an old self to fall back on, but me? This is who I _am_."

Well, it's true, in a sense. It is who Tovim is. Or who he wants to be, Kylo supposes, which is close to the same thing. He doesn't bond well with people, and forcing him polite against his will would never work for long. 

"You could have a family, if you wanted it."

"But I don't. I want… I don't want what you want, Kylo." He sits up then, holding his blaster between his knees. "We don't all want the same thing."

"All right. But I want you to promise me two things, before I let you go."

"Ain't gonna say yes 'til I know what they are."

Fair, Kylo supposes. "I want you to promise you'll – even using the Darkness – keep it to the right side of the law. Or… you know what I mean."

"Not start any Dark Armies, not get myself in ridiculous trouble, no mass genocide… but a bit of trickery and sleight of hand is okay?"

Kylo feels himself smiling. "Don't do anything that means I need to hunt you down."

"Gotcha," Tovim says, with a sloppy salute. "And second?"

"You remember you _can_ come back to us. If you need to, or if you want to. It's not a one time deal. You can come to us for help, or you can come to us… because you want to."

Tovim thinks about it, and then nods. "I can live with that. Haven't really got my sights on running any Orders. Didn't really enjoy the last one, all that much. But might be nice to stop in for a chat every now and again, if you keep your husband from punching me out?"

"Poe's very sorry about that," Kylo grins. Sort of. "He did save your ass, I believe?"

"Yeah, I'll give him that. Okay… so we got a deal, boss?"

"We do. I'll get someone to give you a comm unit, so you can always call us."

"I'll hang around for that, and then just… go. If that's okay?"

It's sad, but… "You won't say goodbye to Asha?"

"I think she'd rather not see me."

Kylo nods. "Then yes. May the Force be with you, Tovim."

"Right back at you."

***

HK-47 isn't that hard to track down. Kylo could have guessed he'd be in the armoury, and the Knight makes sure his heels click so the droid can hear him approach and not be startled.

It's easy to block blaster-bolts, but he'd prefer not to have to, and risk damage to the room.

"HK," Kylo calls out. "Do you have a moment?"

The droid looks up. He's midway through disassembling a particularly complex-looking blaster rifle: the custom model he carries, which seems to work surprisingly well considering it's four thousand years old.

"Master," HK says in reply. "I do. Are there enemies for us to kill? Or would you perhaps prefer something more complex and personal? I remind you I am adept at political assassination. I can easily deal with your more powerful opponents this way, if you wish it."

He sounds hopeful.

"At the minute, I don't have any particular targets," Kylo answers. "We're still re-organising now we're no longer fugitives from galactic law. It might take a while for the dust to settle."

He finds a workbench, perches on the end. "I wanted to thank you for your good work on the _Successor_ , actually. You and BB-8 proved yet again that droids are incredibly important. We would very likely have lost everything without you." 

"Proudly: You are welcome, Master. I revelled in the opportunity to kill your enemies for you. Assisting in the destruction of an entire capital ship was a particular bonus."

The droid sets down the targeting scope he's holding. "Am I to remain with you long-term?" he asks, flatly. "With the Eye of Chikara finally gone, and my last promise to Revan fulfilled, my only remaining obligation is to you, as her heir. But I realise my methods alarm some of the weaker-stomached meatbags here and…"

"You know, I could count on one hand the number of times I have seen HK-47 flustered," comes a voice at Kylo's ear.

It's Revan.

Kylo turns in surprise, and then smiles at her. "Master Revan," he says, greeting her. "It's very good to see you again." 

Which is when he realises that HK can't see her. "Your old Master is here," he says, and nods to the position she is in for him. "She can hear you." 

Midway through what is obviously a pre-planned monologue about why he wants to stay with Kylo regardless of the fact that half the base avoids him wherever he goes, HK-47 stops and stares.

"She… is?" he says, and it's obvious from the droid's voice that he's genuinely taken aback.

"Force mechanics can be such a pain at times," Revan muses – this part only meant for Kylo – and then she smiles. "Tell him I am glad to see he is still functional. And that he found his way to you."

Kylo repeats it, and waits for the droid to respond. He's smiling widely, now. It's a duty he's happy to perform. After all, HK did work tirelessly for thousands of years to follow his last Master's final wishes (or what he understood of them.) 

HK-47 bows, now, at the space where Kylo has told him Revan is. "My Maker," he says, a genuine hint of reverence in his tone. "It is a great pleasure to know that you endure in the Force, as you always believed you would. That you are shed of your sloshing physical form must no doubt be a bonus."

Revan actually laughs. "It has its advantages," she replies, with a look in her eyes that can only be fondness. "Sadly it does leave me unable to challenge you to another of our duels, but I have seen more than enough to know that age has not dulled your abilities."

Kylo snorts. "She says there's advantages, but it means you can no longer duel. And that she can see you've not lost your touch. I have to say, that leaves me wanting to try my hand against you, some day, if you'd be amenable?" 

"Of course," HK-47 answers. "Sadly I lack the quarterstaff made of cortosis that I once had. But I am certain I can improvise."

"I may well drop in to watch," Revan adds. "My heir and my little psychopath. It should be a sight to see."

"We can find you one, or even loan you a lightsabre," Kylo offers. "As long as you don't plan on striking me down with it… Revan says she would like to watch us train together. If… you're staying?" 

"If you bid it, I will remain," HK answers. "Your methods may be more reminiscent of my maker's later days than her earlier ones, but you have more than enough enemies to keep me busy. Assuming… that meets with Darth Revan's approval?"

Still close to Kylo's side, Revan smiles again. "Of course it does. I came here to make sure you did not try to run off. The Resistance needs you more than it knows. The Knights of Eigengrau doubly-so. And… I am pleased that you have endured all this time."

"She says she wanted to ask you to stay. And – well – we both believe the Resistance and my Order both need you more than we can say. You'd be a very valuable asset, and I'd… be upset if you left. She also says she's glad you've made it this far. Plus, it would be a shame for you to leave her service now, even by proxy. That was me, not her." 

It's not that easy being an interpreter and joining in. 

"You meatbags and your sloshy emotions…" HK remarks, obviously trying to pull off 'aloof', but not really managing it. "Very well, I shall remain. I will require access to sufficient weaponry and regular targets. Beyond that, I am not a complicated soul."

Revan laughs. "Do not believe a word he says. He is an exceptionally complicated soul. I would advise against trying to debate Sith philosophy with him. Especially if you find yourself unable to sleep in the middle of the night."

"You know, it would be nice to hear it from someone with experience, whenever I need it," Kylo tells Revan. "Although I will listen critically."

And then, to HK: "She says you're a wealth of information about the Sith. But don't worry, there will be plenty of targets for you. The Order is crippled, but not destroyed, and there will always be those who oppose us. As long as you direct your violent tendencies – like mine – to good targets, we'll both be satisfied, I'm sure."

HK-47 bows again, to Kylo this time. "Then I remain yours to command, Darth Kylo."

"I am glad he is with you," Revan says, to her heir. "I never lost my fondness for him, even at my very Darkest. And, if all fails, who else would sit for four thousand years waiting to fulfill your last request?"

"It is a testament to you, your power and your charisma, that you find followers even now," Kylo reminds her. "The Jedi were idiots to turn you away. But now you can rest assured, knowing the Force is in better hands." 

"It is," Revan agrees. "And I have you to thank for that. For trusting in my path." An odd little smile, half smug and half very much relieved. "For proving me right. We will no doubt speak again. You stand at the end of one road, but the beginning of another, and where it will take you remains to be seen. May the Force be with you, Kylo, Master of the Knights of Eigengrau… and with you, HK-47. _My legacy_."

And, in a shimmer of blue, the Force-ghost of Darth Revan fades from sight.

"And may it be with you, too, Master Revan," Kylo says, bowing slightly to the shimmer where she once was.

A pause, a slow breath, and he turns back to HK. 

"There will be a home for you with my Order for as long as you want it," he states, extending his earlier offer. "I am sure we can also learn quite a lot from your combat experience. And when we get trainees again… once they're advanced enough, they would benefit from sparring against a non-organic with as much experience as you." 

HK-47 seems more than a little gleeful at the prospect. "I would relish the chance, Master," he answers. "It is good to know I can – in a sense – pick up from where I left off."

His metallic hands go back to the weapon on the tabletop, lifting the targeting scope again and slotting it into place with a firm – deliberate – click. "And, should you have any particular enemies you wish dealing with in a more _discreet_ manner, you need only give the word and I will be _happy_ to oblige."

"I am sure there will be quite a few. There's one Captain, in particular. We don't have any intelligence now, but if you could keep your scope and scanners out ready to intercept anything…" It might even be a welcome relief, having HK around to finish off the more troublesome enemies.

After all, working within the justice system hasn't always been that helpful for them, and now there's no war to justify assassinations… the red tape could easily clog them up and let evil spread.

It's a fine line, and a judgement Kylo knows he won't make in isolation. But he's going to have to make some of those tough calls, after exhausting other routes. 

"But of course, Master," HK promises, happily, still slotting the weapon back together with telling gusto. "I was unsure, in the beginning, if my remaining would be wise. I have no such doubts now."

A final click and he slings the re-assembled rifle over his back, where it belongs. And one thing is for sure:

With such an alliance sealed, the enemies of the Resistance won't know what's hit them.


	40. Full Circle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Readers, one and all... this is it. We welcome you, on this day of days, to the end of all things.
> 
> More at the close. First... have one last helping of what you all came here for in the first place: DarkPilot smut!

A week passes.

It's an eventful week, though of a very different sort to those that have preceded it. It begins with Leia Organa – General, Princess, Hero – making a shock appearance on the Senate floor on Hosnian Prime, with no forewarning save a short, snappy introduction by Akiva's Senator Yassen-Ri.

But the shouts of outrage soon fade when Leia, ever the master politician – with a calm certainty that would have made her adoptive parents so very proud – presents the contents of Copperwing's dossier to the stunned senators. When she demonstrates, beyond any doubt, how the Resistance was set up, how their names were dragged through the mud and – crucially – who was really responsible.

It isn't long before the Senate votes to clear the Resistance's good name, and to denounce the First Order for its acts of deception and mass-murder. But even Leia Organa seems surprised when – in a further step that will send shockwaves through the galaxy – the Senate then votes to legitimise the Resistance in full, declaring their support for it.

The victory party on Hinansho lasts for hours: a great outpouring of jubilation and relief, and of a triumph that does not fade. And the joy is doubled when Admiral Statura – looking uncharacteristically merry – stands up and announces that, pending one final security sweep, he is about to give the green light for the Resistance to return to Tahanan.

That green light comes the following day, and – even knowing it was on the cards – Poe still can't believe the words as he hears them.

Tahanan. They're going back to Tahanan.

They're going _home_.

When _did_ it become home? Poe muses, as he flies the _Phoenix_ through hyperspace, as part of one of the convoys ferrying people and equipment back to their re-claimed base. Only he, Kylo and BB-8 are on board, but the cargo bay at the rear of the ship is stocked with crates.

It's odd. Though he was always fond of D'Qar, at the same time he'd seen it as 'not quite Yavin 4'. Which it wasn't. But then he'd gone back to Yavin, and – though he will always love it – the place hadn't felt the way it once did.

But Tahanan? Tahanan, he suspects, always will. It's the place he took Kylo back to, when he wrenched the man free of the monster's grasp for the last time. The place they first lived together for any real length of time. The place where they married, under the stars, and the place he longed for, every day they were apart.

And now they're going back.

Poe checks the hyperdrive readouts. Not long now.

"It's strange to be away from it for so long," Kylo muses. "Do you think we'll ever want to leave again?" 

He's sitting in the co-pilot seat, occasionally toying with BB-8's antenna in a nonchalant fashion. 

"Never," Poe replies, with a smile. "And though I know there's every risk we could lose it a second time, I want to enjoy every last moment we get to spend there. I get to spend there. With you."

He reaches over and grips Kylo's hand.

"Do you think we could start our own Academy there?" Kylo wonders. "I think there's space enough that we could train… maybe on the other side of the woods?" Not that commuting through the woods is high up on his list of priorities.

Except. A little. 

"I think we could," Poe replies. "I mean, Eigengrau's lovely in its own _special_ way, but I don't think the main Academy should be there. Plus, neither of us wants to leave the Resistance, so this way we can do both."

"We can always go back to Eigengrau for… the final training. I doubt our new recruits would be ready for the trials first off." Kylo squeezes at his hand. "That comes much later for them." 

"Yeah," Poe agrees. "I doubt everyone should be thrown straight into it. I know how much of an experience _that_ is."

He smiles at the memories. Eigengrau was a special kind of hell, and a special kind of bliss, and that broken dichotomy is an apt expression for the experience as a whole.

"Doesn't mean we can't go back there for… refreshers…" Kylo smirks. "If you'd like to."

Because he has very, very warm memories, and those aren't just about the temperature of the place. 

"Oh yes," Poe answers, with a similar look of his own. "If nothing else, part of me will always miss our oasis…"

Miss it, crave it. Remember the things he discovered there, the parts of himself he didn't truly understand until he and Kylo woke them up together.

Kylo pulls at his wrist, pulls him in to kiss at his temple, and nose into his hair. "How… long until we arrive?" 

Because now his mind is thoroughly derailed. Again. As usual. 

Poe leans in closer, his eyes drifting shut in pleasure. "Long enough," he murmurs, happily. " _Master_."

BB-8 makes a sound of amused resignation, bumps up against Kylo one last time, and then trundles out of the cockpit.

"He's getting smart about it," Kylo says, tugging harder at his wrist, intent on pulling him away from his seat and onto Kylo's. "Make sure you turn off the comms. And put a safety lock on them." 

That makes Poe smirk at the memories – and the promise – and lean over to do as he's told. Probably for the best. There are quite a number of ships in this convoy, and most of the important people in their lives are on one of them.

"Now no one gets to hear me scream but you," he remarks, easily, before going where he's pulled; slipping onto Kylo's lap and leaning in close.

"…and maybe BB-8," Kylo adds, grabbing Poe's waist and moving him to straddle his hips. A finger on his chest pushes him back, but another in his belt keeps him from falling.

"Strip for me. Make it good." 

Eyes already dark with pleasure, Poe can't help leaning in against that finger against his chest nonetheless. The wounds that were there have healed fully, now – even though the scars linger – and it's good to be able to enjoy being touched again.

"Yes, Master," he answers, hands going to the buttons of his shirt – and if he happens to be wearing clothing that's easy to remove and looks damn good when he does, well, that's just fortuitous.

Or, you know. Forward-planning.

Slowly, slowly, one button after another, keeping eye-contact with Kylo until he can drop his shoulders and let the shirt slip halfway down his arms, falling open as it does.

Kylo's smile spreads wide. Oh, he loves to watch him strip like this, his hands going to rest warmly over those thighs. Just above the knee, sliding up so his thumbs chase the inside of his legs, almost nudging at his groin and then back down again. 

"I said strip, not stay half-clothed." There's an obvious threat in his tone, growling him down. 

Said obvious threat makes Poe look more delighted, although it does also make him speed up a little, shucking the shirt right off and letting it drop to the floor. Then his hands run over his torso, sliding down to start unfastening his pants. He can't strip those off without moving rather a lot, but that doesn't mean he can't make a good start.

"Better, Master?" he asks. There's still a hint of a smirk on his face, though no real impertinence behind it.

"Still not perfect," Kylo replies, though the parted, licked-wet lips and the hungry eyes that continue the undressing in his mind are more than answer. His thumbs graze up again, pressing into the crease at his upper thigh, at the edge of his groin. 

Hands that move to cup his ass, and lift him upwards, holding his weight with ease. "I don't have all day. Undress yourself, or I'll relieve my needs over you and leave you wanting. Would you like that? Me to give you a lovely pearl necklace and then pack you back into your clothes, still hard?" 

"You know I'd do anything you say," Poe answers, but he speeds up somewhat, smart enough to take the hint. "But I can think of things I want _more_."

Such as, Kylo fucking his brains out whichever way he chooses, right here in the cockpit of their ship. Again.

He lifts up, sliding his pants and boxers down as far as they will go without him actually standing, freeing his cock. But not touching it. Not unless he's told he should, at least. If nothing else, the lack of contact stops him going completely insane with need.

For now.

Kylo's hands move – one at a time – allowing his pants to go lower on his thighs, down near his knees. He goes back to grabbing at Poe's ass, his hands pulling his cheeks wide open to bare his hole to the ship. Power glitters in his eyes, and he watches his expression like a hawk.

"Why should I let you ride my cock? Maybe I'll just fuck you with the Force. Make you come without being touched, but leave your cock hard. Maybe I'll fuck you to incoherence, and make you beg to feel me inside of you, when I'm done wringing your pleasure from your beautiful body." 

Poe's eyes go _black_ , and he has to concentrate to hold the position he's in and not fall over. "I will do _anything_ you say," he re-iterates, his voice barely more than a whisper, but full of fervour. "I am _yours_."

The hands pulling Poe wider yank until it's nearly painful, and then there's a nudge between his legs that isn't dick, and isn't fingers. Air, hardened into a point that draws a line back and forth, teasing the sensitive skin.

"You are. All mine. Such a good little cockslut for me. Are you going to beg me properly?" he asks, swirling his intent in a tight circle around his hole. Around and around, and then flattening to a pulsing palm-like touch. 

" _Please_ ," Poe gasps, the word so quick and desperate that it's clear need has drawn it out of him, as much as the order. "Please. I need you. I need to make you happy. I… need you to claim me as _yours_ all over again, even though no one could think that I was anything but."

It isn't as though Kylo hasn't laid a hand on him since they were reunited. He has – on several occasions – but… not quite like _this_.

Kylo's nails dig in as the tendril pushes into a snub spear again, swirling around in a neat circle as it bores its way inside. He's careful to ease through Poe's resistance, and he's going to need lube to make his cock really feel good there, but the start of this can be frictionless pressure.

Poe looks beautiful like this, and Kylo moves his hands to hold onto his waist. Another swirl of the Force grabs his belt, pulling it to bind Poe's wrists together and lift them, as if hung from the cockpit's ceiling. His hands on his waist slide Poe's belly and cock to glide against his clothed torso, the dribbling peak making a tiny mess on his belly. "Going to open you so wide you feel you're going to bleed out if I don't plug your hole, pilot." 

Being bound like that makes Poe's whole inner world slip sideways, and his outer world go distinctly hazy for a moment. He gasps in delight, unbidden and unashamed, shivering as Kylo penetrates him with nothing but the Force and trying to rock back against it, wanting more.

" _Yes_ ," he says, rapt and rapturous, his need dialling higher and higher with no end in sight. "Yes… I'm yours… I need to be yours… my master, my husband, my _heart_."

"Would you do anything I asked?" Kylo pushes, as he deliberately angles Poe, dragging him over his chest, grinding him down into his lap. "Anything at all?"

It's a dangerous, dangerous question… and, at the same time, one with only a single answer.

" _Yes_ ," Poe says, and it still terrifies him, and he still means it. His heart races at the thought, comforted only by the truth of his trust in Kylo.

Kylo grabs for the belt with one hand, using the Force to help. He stands, hoisting Poe up by his wrists, and then leashes the belt to a handstrap from the ceiling. He whips the rest of his clothes off with his hands, leaving him naked but for boots and socks.

"Tell me what you're craving," he purrs. "Beg. You might not get it. You might get _worse_." 

" **You** ," Poe answers – the truth but not the whole truth – swaying a little as he tries to keep his footing after the sudden burst of movement. "Your love, your fire, your fury, your _passion_. I… I want…"

He's confident _Kylo_ wants specifics, but his mind is already dizzy with need and it isn't easy to think straight. Or, at all. Or…

…to say the things, once he thinks of them.

"…I want to give you everything. To suffer for you, to scream for you, to surrender for you. I… want… to know I make you happy… I… _need to_ …"

"Break?" Kylo suggests. "Utterly, and without question? To go so far there's no stopping… and come back together in my arms?"

He's been hard on him, but he's also been guarded. Tempered rage, passion, and need. Poe's mind and body had needed to knit and mend before he could splinter him truly open. He pulls his own belt free, notch by notch, and cracks it through the air just near his ear. "This is what you want." 

Somehow, Poe manages to keep his head up, to hold Kylo's eyes, even despite the very genuine fear that races through him at that. He bites his lip and nods, knowing what he's asking for. Knowing how much it terrifies him, even as he craves it all the same.

"Yes." Soft and sure. "Yes. Because you're the only one I'll ever truly break _for_."

"Hold a secret. Do it now. Hold something you've never told me, even if it means nothing. Imagine it, but lock it down inside of you," Kylo instructs him, not blinking. "And tell me when you have it." 

The instruction makes Poe's mind race: partly because he knows _why_ Kylo is telling him to do it – and where it will lead – and partly because thinking of something abstract, on command, is surprisingly difficult even when you _aren't_ naked and lashed to the ceiling.

And then… yes. He's not sure why this particular thought flares in his mind, but it will do. Maybe it's an apt enough choice.

Poe takes a deep breath, and nods. "I have it."

"Keep it from me. Keep it from me, as if losing the secret is losing your life. As if losing the secret is losing _me_. Do you understand?"

Kylo waits for the nod, and then he turns Poe away from him. Lifted onto the balls of his feet, his back stretched deliciously. The curve of his spine and shoulders, and the Knight wraps the leather around his wrist.

And then the first blow lands, sharply into one shoulder. 

Even braced for the pain, knowing it's coming, knowing he's _asked_ for it, Poe isn't quite prepared for how much it hurts. He howls at the top of his voice, using up every last drop of oxygen that _hasn't_ just been knocked squarely out of him, and struggles to regain his breath.

"… _fuck_ …" he manages.

"Is that any way to speak to me?" Kylo's voice has lost all trace of kindness, of mercy. The next blow lands twice as hard, in the same place. The leather slides down his spine after it lands, a counter-point to the stinging impact. 

The second blow whites out Poe's mind for a long moment, and he can't even scream; the pain too much to process all at once. He struggles for words – for anything – but nothing will come, and all he can do is drop his head, trying to appear contrite.

"…S-sorry… Master…" he manages, eventually, doubting the apology will do him a shred of good.

" _Better_ ," Kylo answers, and runs a finger along the angry, dusky welt that's rising on Poe's shoulder. It's still young, and it's still fresh. It's going to mark for a few days, if he's not careful.

But where's the fun in careful? He kisses the mark, then steps back. "You will respect me _properly_ ," he insists, and flicks left-and-right swipes down his spine to his ass. Harder, there, making the taut muscle bounce below the blows. As he does, he works that presence inside him, bearing up as he flicks him down onto it. 

"Y-yes, Master," Poe gasps out, in between the blows, trying so very hard not to scream again and losing it completely towards the end of this particular onslaught, howling to the ceiling but managing to restrict the outburst to that.

He might – _might_ – be able to hold himself together if this was all just pain. But the renewed Force-penetration is tripping all his circuits at once, winding the craving higher, linking all the sensation into one great morass that his mind can't untangle.

A smirk, and Kylo renews his efforts, playing up and down over Poe's back until he's babbling through it. Without warning, he steps in and pulls the belt across his throat. "You're not going to give me the information so soon, are you? The best pilot in the Resistance?"

His body pressed all over his back, a light shunt of his hips to remind him he's there. And dressed. Harder over his throat, lips walking over his ear. "Are you?" 

" _N-never_ ," Poe manages, his eyes rolling back at how terrifyingly, agonisingly _wonderful_ that feels, and steeling himself for another round of Asking For It. "I… won't tell you a thing… so… d-do your worst. _I like it_."

There are probably no words for how stupid that was. This is probably the point.

"Of course you like it." Kylo's smile splits his face almost in half. That _is_ the point, and he ruts his hips into Poe, spearing the Force-intrusion deeper, wider into his body. It's still raw, and rough, and he pulls the belt so Poe's head bends back across his shoulder, and their eyes meet. "That's why you're _mine_." 

The belt goes to one hand, and the other hovers just over Poe's belly. A pause, and then there's the faintest smell of ozone as the Force-lightning in Kylo's fingers starts to crackle over the pilot's bare skin. Light sparks, not enough to cause scarring, or damage… but definitely enough to hurt. 

"Ohhhh," Poe manages – not at all intelligently – too pained and breathless to manage a full-on scream. His whole body is shaking long before the lightning sparks over his skin, and when it does he starts trembling so hard he's almost convulsing… and yet, at the same time, he isn't even trying to struggle. "… _please_ …"

"Please… what?" Kylo asks, and his hand goes lower to draw static-sparks around his thighs. "Don't be unclear. Or I'll have to punish you in ways you _will not_ like…"

Poe is somehow smart enough not to ask for details, even though he wonders if he might still like them on some level. Though this doesn't make answering any easier, because that 'please' could be followed by anything from 'stop' to 'don't stop', and getting his desires to actualise into words isn't easy because he wants _both_.

"…Please _more_ ," he gasps, taking the plunge. " _But I won't tell you anything_."

"Oh, but you _will_." Kylo's voice is drunk with the power, now, and he pushes his fingers in harder to his stomach, the light flickers dancing all over his torso. The pressure moves across, finding bundles of nerves, edging the pain to almost too much to tolerate. 

And then his hand goes, and he moves away. And waits. 

By the time the storm of lightning fades, Poe has pretty much screamed himself hoarse. He's barely holding his footing, and without that belt around his wrists he'd likely have dropped to the floor by now. When he can breathe again – when he can remember how that even works – he tries to do so, keeping his head down and instinctively biting his lip, knowing that the silence likely won't get him anything but more pain.

But he won't give in. He won't. Not until he absolutely has to.

This is more than just pain. More than just pleasure. More than just intimacy. He needs to _prove himself_.

"You think you're strong, but you _know_ I'm stronger. You always have, since that day…" 

And into his mind he goes, pulling back that moment. A masked face, and hot sands. Kylo lets the hoist go, dropping him to the floor. 

Poe gasps out loud, half in surprise and half in _memory_ , falling to his knees and staying there. His head is bowed, not quite looking up, and somehow he manages to keep his voice level when – this time – he responds.

"That's true," he concedes, levelly, because it is, and arguing otherwise would be churlish at best. "But I also know I would never have caught your attention if I had just surrendered easily…"

"So ready to die, weren't you? So ready to throw it all away…" Kylo grabs his hair, and pulls his head back so far his throat greets the ceiling. "For the cause, or for my mother?" 

"Both," Poe answers, truthfully, staring up at him. His mind only processes the pain so far, and then it all goes dull at the edges, leaving everything else hazy and a little distant.

The hand moves again, and Kylo drops to his knee as he slams Poe face-first down. He stops only millimeters away from bursting his nose open, keeping him in the stress-position and barely moving.

"Is that the only reason you came to Jakku?" 

"For the cause. For the intel. For the map." Poe closes his eyes. He can't exactly see much in this position, but that isn't why. "Because I could _feel_ something, out in the black, hurtling towards me, and I had to find it. Had to meet it, head-on…"

Kylo lets go, but the fall isn't far, now. He grabs the belt that holds Poe's wrists, and drags him out of the cockpit, making him either slide on his belly or try to keep up on his knees. 

Which isn't easy to do. Poe tries his damndest, but it doesn't stop it hurting all the way, and he can only hope Kylo isn't planning to travel the whole length of the ship like this.

"Feel like talking, yet?" Kylo asks, as they bump through one set of doors into the next compartment. "You know, I can keep this up all day. I have incredible stamina… and if I get bored, I can simply rip it from your mind." 

"Then why don't you?" Poe pushes, a hint of resistance creeping back into his tone.

Kylo lifts him with the Force, slamming him into the ceiling, and then dropping him to almost hit the floor. He leaves the man levitating there, and hitches a leg over him. An arm around his throat, the elbow bracketing his trachea, and he leans into his ear.

"I'm going to," he says, and forces his way inside without the slightest gentleness.

" _Fuck_ ," is all Poe manages at that, caught halfway between agony and ecstasy, his eyes rolling back as he tries – with all he is – to resist.

He can't. He knows he can't. But that isn't the point. He can't struggle physically – not held like this – but he can struggle mentally.

To a point. To a point that _hurts_ , it **hurts** , and flashes of memory start to bleed through the pain: memories linked to the hidden thought that Kylo is trying to reach. But you could be forgiven for thinking they're lingering memories of what they were talking about in the cockpit, given the way the sands of Jakku shift back into focus.

Different now, though. Not Tuanul. The dunes.

"You're going to tell me," Kylo says, as he reaches a hand beneath himself, pushing it between Poe's cheeks and starting to slide it back and forth, rubbing him in counterpoint to the almost-choke, and the presence inside his mind that won't go. He strokes his fingers against his hole, and down to his balls, sending tendrils of pleasure in to poison his body.

"What is it you're hiding from me?" 

It would be so easy to give in. So very easy. Poe knows this all too well, and he can feel the urge to just _surrender_ pulling deep inside him – even before those fingers start working over him – and he can't think, he can't focus, he can't _anything_ , and yet he knows he has to keep fighting regardless.

But the images are getting clearer: the hazy sands of Jakku giving way to a flat plain dotted with broken ships, on the very edge of the Starship Graveyard. The light fades, too: it's night, and the sky overhead is a sea of stars.

And then, one ship. The wrecked remains of a freighter, nameless and barely recognisable. The curve of an exhaust port.

… _no, no, no, no, I won't, I won't, I won't_ …

One finger bends and slips inside, right as Poe imagines the hole. Kylo plucks at the image, his gaze wandering around it as his finger plays his body so subtly open. "That's right… a ship. Large, and dead. Sleeping. Picked at by _scavengers_ … I see it… I see the ship…"

The penetration is too much, and Poe is wound too tightly, and everything just goes sideways, the image resolving into something much clearer: the ship, on Jakku, where Poe slept for those scant few hours after the TIE-Fighter crash. The ship where Kylo found him.

The ship where…

"…I was dreaming about you," the pilot whispers. "Before you came back, before you captured me again. I was dreaming about you and I didn't know why."

Kylo pauses, then. It's something he didn't expect, and all of a sudden, his mouth goes dry. "What did you dream?" he asks, and his voice is more gentle, more… him. 

"I dreamt we were on D'Qar," Poe answers, the pause enough for him to find his breath, if nothing else. "I was in the base, but it was empty, and I was looking for you, but every time I saw you, you'd disappear before I got close. And… and I couldn't work out _why_ because right then you were my enemy and still I… I _needed to find you_."

"The Force bound us together," Kylo says, his finger pushed in all the way home. "Because you're mine. And nothing anyone can do can change that. You're mine, and I'm yours." He kisses the side of his mouth, affection crashing in through the backdoor into his head. 

"You need me, don't you? You need me to make it hurt, and make it stop. You know how to get what you need." 

"I need you, yes, I need you," Poe manages, everything going hazy and delirious. "I told you… I told you my secret… that I was dreaming of you even when we were still enemies… I told you… I told you… I surrender…"

"Beg. Me." Two words, heavy in the air. A second finger, a spread deep inside. Kylo wants to hear him, wants to hear him out of his mind with need. Wants to feel the shudder around his fingers when he bears down to press against Poe's prostate. 

He's not going to last much longer, whatever happens. He's going to need to enter his husband, and it's only a matter of moments. 

" _Please_ ," Poe breathes at once, the word laden with meaning and need, and he sounds – and is – utterly out of his head. "Please, Master, _I need you, I need you, I'm going to break apart without you_."

The words aren't idle, either: right now, it's precisely how he feels. As though the whole world will collapse if Kylo doesn't _take what's **his**_.

Kylo grabs the small lube bottle from his cargo pants pocket, pulling his cock out and coating himself with just one hand. The other keeps moving inside of Poe until he's ready, and then he pulls him onto his hands and knees properly. Moves to kneel between his ankles, and drags his cock between his still-tight cheeks, over the hole he knows so well.

"Do you remember our first time?" Kylo asks, fond at the memory. "I pushed into you, and I knew I was saved."

In, to the hilt, in one move. His legs touch Poe's, and his hands keep his hips still and locked over his shaft. A pinch of finger and thumb, and then he flashes the memory through Poe's mind. "My first love, my only love. I knew why I'd waited, when I found you." 

He's not going to be able to talk for much longer, and he's making use of every moment he still can. 

It's a few seconds before Poe can actually reply; too overwrought with pleasure to speak at first. He struggles through them, knowing he needs to find his voice, to answer, because all of this means too much not to.

"I remember," he gasps, when he can. He sounds wrecked, and needy, and blissed, and he is, in all three cases. "I knew what I was doing was dangerous… but I also knew I wanted it more than anything. Wanted _you_. And I knew when you took me, when you fucked me… I knew I'd be yours and no one else's. Forever."

Lips graze over the hairline at his nape, sucking fiercely. Pulling blood to the surface, forcing a bruise over the golden skin. A hint of teeth, and Kylo starts to thrust into him. It's so good, so good: Poe's body resists and welcomes in equal measure, gripping his cock and making his blood sing. Fuck, but he loves this. Loves it so much. 

_I had no idea what I was doing. You're lucky the Force was helping me. I got there in the end._ And then some. 

"You were fucking incredible," Poe manages, desperate to respond but not wholly aware that he's speaking out loud. "You always are. I don't know how I got so lucky but I did and… _ohfuckKylo, likethatyespleaseplease_ …"

He already feels like he's going to split in two, and given how much Kylo has been winding him tighter and tighter all this time, he's aware he's unlikely to last for long. But he bites his lip and holds on, needing to give Kylo everything. Everything that's his, and everything else besides.

The teeth bite down so hard they break the skin, a surge of copper-hot blood that Kylo laves roughly with his tongue. The begging, the feel of him like a snug glove, the coil of tension that threatens to go…

"Don't you fucking come." Even as he grabs his cock and starts to beat it with all the power he has. He wants Poe destroyed, wants him coming without coming. Wants to push him all the way to the edge and refuse to let him fall. 

Poe howls in pain at the biting, though he sounds more ecstatic than pained, and he doesn't even try to break away or resist. The tangle of sensation and emotion at his core is almost too much, but he wants it to last forever; wants to ride it over the edge and into whatever lies beyond.

"I won't… Master… I won't…" he promises, and he means it. Even though it will break him to hold back. He will.

He has to.

Kylo shifts his weight, moving Poe so each thrust gets deeper inside. His hand keeps moving, his fingers swirling from root to tip, and he licks his blooded tongue over the shell of Poe's ear. His breathing hard and fast, his hips snapping as he tries to bear down on that spot inside. 

"I'm going to fuck you so hard you forget what any other cock felt like, Poe. I'm going to fuck you so hard you think you've turned inside out. I'm going to fuck you until you can only _breathe_ , and nothing more…" 

" _Yes_ ," Poe gasps, in bliss, in agreement, trying to angle his hips to give Kylo _everything_ ; to let him go as deep and as far as he wants. "Please. _Please_ , Master. I'm yours, all yours, only yours. I'll do _anything_."

Even fall apart. Lose my mind. _Break_. For you.

Which is when Kylo takes his mind, and takes his body right from under him. He moves his limbs without his consent, flattening him to the ground and then hoisting him back up to show he can. An arm around his throat, and he sits them both up so he can pile-drive into him, beating his cock as hard and fast as possible. 

"You're mine," Kylo says. "No one else will ever get as deep into you as I can. Because they'll see my claw-marks on your walls and know you're--" _slam_ "-- **mine**." 

He rips the pleasure higher, forcing Poe's body to come without explicit permission, wanting the response. 

And Poe _screams_ , in shock, in delight, in anguish, utterly out of control and loving it and _terrified_ by it, the pleasure ripping through him with no way to stop it, no matter how hard he tries. He struggles against the sensation with all that he is, even though he already knows it will do no good, and even though his mind is falling apart at the very concept.

"Master…" he gasps, "Master… I'm sorry… I _tried_ …"

Precisely what he wanted, and Kylo kisses his jaw, his cheek. "It's all right, my pilot. It's all right. You did what I wanted, you're so very good, such a good boy…" 

He's teetering on the edge. So close. So close. "Do you want me to come inside you, or down your throat, my Poe? Ask, and it's yours." 

"Inside me… please… like the first time…" Poe manages. He's shaking all over now, still desperate to please, desperate to make up for what feels like a failure on his part. To give Kylo everything and anything and prove his devotion and love.

Both arms cradle his chest, and Kylo nuzzles until he turns his face for kisses. "Always," he promises, and then rams up with the last thrust inside. They topple forwards, and Poe's pushed into the floor of the ship, covered with Kylo, covered _in_ Kylo, with the ropey wash of a climax so heavy it almost hurts flooding into every available space.

" _Mine_." 

" _ **Yours**_ ," is the pilot's reply: blissful and broken and so utterly, joyfully _owned_.

And then… all he can do is lie in a tangle where he is, out of his mind, aware of sensation beyond what he can even process, and drifting on it, knowing that – so long as he's in Kylo's arms – everything is _right_.

Gradually, carefully, Kylo rolls them to one side. His knees bend up protectively, his arms cuddling him tightly. Kisses, and softer touches. Never once letting up, never once. 

"I've got you," he whispers. "You're safe, remember? Safe. I love you, Poe." 

He is, isn't he? He is. Yes. Safe. Kylo's.

"…love you too…" Poe murmurs, Kylo's words keeping him grounded just enough to answer. "Yours. All yours."

All yours. No one else's.

"Are you comfortable?" Kylo asks, even though he knows. He's feeling that surge of protection, that need to bond closely that always follows an intense session. "Do you want to stay here?"

"Want you. Just you." Poe isn't really capable of articulating any more than that at this point. Plus there's the part where he'd lie wherever Kylo told him to right now, and would just be happy to know he was doing what Kylo wanted.

"All right," Kylo agrees, and kisses his neck, his ear, his jaw. "We'll stay here. We've got time before we get home. Home… to Tahanan." 

The first place to ever feel like it, for the longest time. Kylo is glad they're going back. He hopes it will be just like they left it, though that's almost too much to wish for. 

"Home," Poe murmurs, a soft little smile on his face at the thought. _Home_. "With you. Perfect."

And it is. And somehow, it's a victory as huge and monumental as the sweeping, dramatic ones.

"In our home. In our bed. I can't wait to curl up with you, there, and know it's for good." Kylo has no desire to move, not really. Not when he has everything he needs and then some. 

Poe's smile broadens, even though his eyes are closed. "Me neither."

Home. _Home_.

When he sees it, that's when he'll know they've won.

***

It's a little while later, and the two men are back in the cockpit, presentable and – in Poe's case – mostly coherent again.

The proximity alert makes him jump as it sounds, and he lets go of Kylo's hand to lean over and glance at the scope.

"…We're coming up on our destination," he says, softly, before reaching to disengage the hyperdrive.

And there it is. The blue-white of hyperspace resolves to black, with a glittering green jewel at its centre.

Tahanan.

Poe breathes out. "We made it."

"You ready to take us down, Commander?" Kylo asks, his smile spreading so wide his face is all but split in two. "As I doubt you'd like me at the helm, this time…?"

Poe beams, bright as a sun. "It would be my honour."

And he reaches to hit the comm. "Tahanan Ground Control, this is the _Phoenix_ , requesting permission to land."

"Copy that, _Phoenix_ ," comes the reply, from a member of the advance team already manning the reclaimed base. "Lighting the pad up for you now. And… welcome home."

Down they go, through atmosphere, through cloud, until the sea of green resolves into trees, with a familiar cluster of buildings set amongst them, and some part of Poe still can't quite believe that this is happening, that they made it, that they're _here_.

But it is, they did, they _are_.

The _Phoenix_ touches down moments later, clunking into place on its landing pad, and Poe puts the ship into low-power mode, before turning to Kylo and holding out his hand again.

"Shall we?"

"It would be _my_ honour," Kylo says, with mischief in his eyes. He takes Poe's hand, then hoists him up in a bridal carry, waiting to see if he resists. Much. 

He doesn't. On the contrary, Poe goes easily into his husband's arms, beaming up at him some more. "Show-off," he murmurs, lovingly.

"It's why you love me," the Sith replies, and carries him out. To more than a few raised eyebrows. 

"Does anyone need my Commander more than I do?" Kylo asks the group en masse. 

"Somehow I doubt it," Snap replies, arm around Jess; the two of them having just landed nearby.

"And they wouldn't dare argue if they did," Poe adds, still grinning unashamedly up at Kylo.

"In that case, don't disturb us for… three days?" Kylo suggests. "Four?" But he doesn't hang around for the answer, taking long strides back home. 

***

_**One Year Later…** _

So much can happen in a year. So very much. And – leaning back against a tree – Poe still can't believe it's been that long. One year, in fact – to the day, he realises, with a smile – since the Resistance returned to their base here on Tahanan.

Said base is still very much in operation, a short distance away from where they are now. He can hear the dull roar of X-Wing engines and he's still looking forward to this afternoon's series of orbital manoeuvres.

He always does. Bastian still thinks he's insane, but somehow that only makes Poe enjoy it more. Plus, with Snap and Jess due back from their honeymoon on Coruscant, it'll be the first time they've all been together in a good two weeks.

Right now, he and Finn are both watching Kylo and Rey train with their initiates. Poe never gets tired of this, either. Of watching the Knights of Eigengrau grow in strength and prowess. Of knowing he helped make it possible.

Asha Jain is with them. He's glad of that, too: glad that she chose to stay, that they were able to help her. That more than one of the Knights of Ren was saved before the end. And though some scars never truly heal, he knows there's hope for her here. That there always will be.

"Which do you think will go Jedi, and which Sith, and which… something else?" Finn asks, leaning in and keeping his voice conspiratorially low. "I got my pick, already." 

Poe grins at him. "My guys are probably running a pool on it," he answers, his own voice also low. "But… I have my own ideas." And he headtilts at the line of apprentices. "Sith, Sith, Jedi, Grey, Jedi… Grey."

He's least sure on that last one. The young woman in question is… hard to predict.

"You think there's gonna be a running theme with ex-Order troopers, then? All going Jedi?" 

"Maybe to start off with. Later on… I'm guessing we'll get a little more variety. But to start off with, it seems the way to go."

"Probably because the first ones to embrace this so quickly were really unhappy with where they were? Not that I'm saying Sith are… you know." Finn shrugs. "It's a perspective thing, right? How you see yourself?" 

"Exactly," Poe agrees. "And sometimes that takes time to work out. Alternatively, you make a snap decision to steal a TIE-Fighter with a guy you only just met." He claps Finn on the shoulder. "Strange, how these things end up."

"…yeah, well… honestly, I was getting a bit choked in that uniform," Finn says. "We did all right, didn't we? Other than the crashing horribly on Jakku?" 

Poe looks out at Kylo, and at Rey, and he smiles again. "Yeah," he answers. "Yeah. We did all right."

The trainee Knights start working through katas and exercises with their wooden staves, and Kylo and Rey take a moment to wander over to their non-Force-sensitive other halves. 

"What do you think?" Kylo asks. "They pass muster?" 

"They look good to me," Poe replies. "They're coming along fast, too. I'm impressed."

"They have good teachers," Asha adds, pacing over to join them. Her movement is ever-cautious, but there's a warmth in her eyes that is all genuine.

"You gonna let HK play with them, then?" Finn's clearly teasing. The droid is far more advanced than these young recruits could genuinely handle, and he doesn't play 'gentle' with people.

"I want them all to survive, so no. Not yet." Kylo slides his thumb over the hilt of Darth Vader's sabre. "But one day." 

"I look forward to it," the droid concurs, having moved in closer too. He seems to like watching the training when he's around, though this is the first time in several weeks that he's been back on Tahanan. HK doesn't talk much about what he does when he's offworld, but there have been several notable deaths in the ranks of the First Order and their allies of late, and no one doubts the correlation between the two facts. "I have, after all, trained with the best."

BB-8 bumps up against the taller droid and chitters.

"I could assist you as well, small ball," HK tells it. "Upgrade those weapons of yours. Make you suitably _lethal_."

"No messing with my droid!" Poe insists at once, defensively… even if BB-8's response seems to be a little more in favour.

"I'll second that," Rey adds. "BB-8 brought down two Star Destroyers. He's the most lethal one here!"

BB-8 points out that it could come in useful.

"You really don't need--"

Beep. Boop.

"I am not making a miniature lightsabre for you!" Kylo concludes.

A sad whir, and a lowered dome. 

That's so not fair. The Sith folds his arms. "Don't even think about trying to look cute."

Poe pats BB-8 lovingly. "Awww. He's always cute."

The droid seems more approving of this sentiment, at least.

There's an odd little pause.

"I still can't believe it's been a whole year," the pilot says.

Rey smiles. "I know. Funny how these things work out."

"I still can't believe I managed to land a vessel without crashing it," Kylo adds. "Though I think my co-pilot was cheating."

" _Never_ ," Poe replies, hand on heart, grinning. "Besides, you're better than you think. Trust me. I know these things."

"Poe, I do trust you, but I also know you're a filthy liar at times," Kylo says. "Little Sith." 

The pilot leans in closer, looking nothing but delighted. "What can I say? I learned from the best."

BB-8 makes a Binary snort, and asks if the new Knights ever want training in hacking?

Kylo laughs, nudging his foot to the droid. "Don't let Poe know your wicked ways, BB."

"I think he _learned them_ from Poe," Finn corrects him. 

"I have that effect on people," Poe adds, with an easy shrug.

At this point, they're interrupted by the roar of starfighter engines, as a pair of blue-striped X-Wings race overhead, both arcing into a tight loop in unison, seconds before the rest of the squadron swoops into view, spiralling around them and then racing onwards, as if in honour guard and welcome all at once.

"…Looks like Snap and Jess are home," Poe says, grinning again. "This afternoon should be _fun_."

"Shall we head back to the base?" Rey asks, and the general consensus is that they should.

So off they go, Rey falling into pace beside Finn – no doubt to talk about their own upcoming wedding, now only a week away – and Asha rounding up the other trainees, with the droids following on behind. Poe, meanwhile, stays close to Kylo, arm around him.

"We haven't done bad," Kylo says. "You ready to dance the night away?"

The pilot presses in tighter. "With you?" he replies. "Always."

And Poe Dameron smiles, and closes his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it. For those of you who have been our companions, readers and friends on this year-spanning journey, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts. <3
> 
> What comes next? Right now, we don't know. What we do know is this: we'll be in our local IMAX at 3am this Thursday morning to witness something that promises to be truly special. We live at a time where - currently - we get a new Star Wars movie every year and, after everything 2016 has brought, that's one thing we _can_ be thankful for.
> 
> Before we go... roll the credits!
> 
> **Dramatis Personae**
> 
> **The Knights of Eigengrau**
> 
> Kylo Organa-Solo ~ Davechicken  
> Poe Dameron ~ Shadow Side  
> Rey ~ Shadow Side  
> Finn ~ Davechicken
> 
> **The Knights Of Ren**
> 
> Danika Ren | Ava Jain ~ Davechicken  
> Daria Ren | Asha Jain ~ Shadow Side  
> Tovim Ren ~ Davechicken  
> Fayed Ren ~ Davechicken  
> Jolek Ren ~ Davechicken  
> Meryth Ren ~ Davechicken
> 
> **The First Order**
> 
> Alek Hux ~ Shadow Side  
> Phasma ~ Davechicken  
> Dopheld Mitaka | Copperwing ~ Davechicken  
> Orinna Hux ~ Shadow Side  
> Brendol Hux ~ Shadow Side
> 
> **The Resistance**
> 
> Leia Organa ~ Shadow Side  
> Han Solo ~ Davechicken  
> Chewbacca ~ Davechicken  
> Statura ~ Shadow Side  
> Ackbar ~ Shadow Side  
> Caluan Ematt ~ Davechicken  
> Kes Dameron ~ Shadow Side  
> Maz Kanata - Davechicken
> 
> **The Pilots**
> 
> Snap Wexley ~ Shadow Side  
> Jess Pava ~ Shadow Side  
> Karé Kun ~ Shadow Side  
> Iolo Arana ~ Shadow Side  
> Bastian ~ Shadow Side  
> Nien Nunb ~ Shadow Side
> 
> **The Droids**
> 
> BB-8 ~ Shadow Side & Davechicken  
> HK-47 ~ Shadow Side
> 
> **The Ghosts**
> 
> Darth Revan ~ Shadow Side  
> Yoda ~ Davechicken
> 
> And may the Force be with you. Always.


End file.
